Destiny
by DreamerOfTruth
Summary: Arya Stark is leaving behind everything she has ever known in order to find her destiny.
1. Chapter 1

Arya could feel his eyes on her after she threatened the Greyjoy sister. She couldn't bear to meet those eyes, blue as the sea. They were eyes that could see into the deepest part of her soul. They would wash away all of her defenses, and she would eagerly allow him. She couldn't allow that to happen. She didn't know what had become of her soul. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the burning bodies, the smell of their flesh lingering on in her nose. It didn't matter how many times she had soaked in a bath since the fall of King's Landing; nothing could get rid of that stench.

She pressed her lips together tightly and using every fiber of her being, she refused to look back. What would happen if she did? They would have one of their many unspoken conversations and then what?

Gendry would become Lord of Storms End. He'd be a great lord, she knew that. There, he could find happiness. If she had even a single conversation with him, then he might renounce his title in order to stay with her. She couldn't have that. Her future was uncertain, but his was clear to her. She could have no part in it.

The rest of the council meeting went so fast that Arya barely had any time to process what was to become of her family. Bran would be the King of the Seven Kingdoms, Sansa the Queen of the North. And Jon? Well, Jon was to be sent to the wall. At least he was going to be alive and in the north. He would probably reunite with Tormond and have the best life he could besides being with her and Sansa in Winterfell.

Sansa lightly touched her arm, making sure that she was there and in the moment. "I'm going to go speak to Tyrion. Will you be alright?" she asked.

Arya rolled her eyes. "As if anyone would dare touch me."

"That's not what I'm worried about." Sansa glanced over at the former blacksmith who looked as if he was saying his goodbyes to Ser Davos.

"I'll be fine, Sansa," Arya said, a mask of indifference protecting her true feelings. She didn't know how much her sister knew, only that Sansa was one of the most perceptive people she had ever known. Even as they were children, Sansa could spot the slightest scratch on Arya's body, indicating that she had been fighting with her brothers and not participating in her proper lessons. Things had changed since then, but Sansa was still Sansa.

As her sister approached her former husband, Arya placed her hand on Bran's shoulder. "Are you sure that this is what you want?" she asked him, crouching down so she wasn't looking over him.

The corner of Bran's lips rose slightly. "No, it is not. Tyrion is correct, though. This is the only way."

She nodded her head slightly. "Bran, can I ask you something?"

Her brother raised an eyebrow but did not speak.

"What is my way?"

Bran smiled, her father's eyes gleaming at her through him. "That is not for me to say, sister. You'll figure it out eventually." Bran placed his hand on hers. "Take care of yourself, Arya. You're always welcome here."

She lightly squeezed his hand back before standing up. That was all she needed. Bran confirmed that her destiny was not to be here. She would not protect him or have any part in rebuilding King's Landing. She didn't think her place was at Winterfell either. A fleeting thought of her traveling to Storm's End with Gendry crossed her mind, but she knew that it could never be from the moment she thought it.

Arya made eye contact with Sansa, tilting her head to the side slightly to let her know that she was leaving the courtyard. Looking down at the floor, she started to leave before she knew that this was unfair to him, unfair to Gendry.

She stopped herself before the corner, her hand resting on some of the remaining brick. With a deep breath, she turned her head to his direction.

He stood there, strong and tall, a true Baratheon she thought with a small laugh. Time seemed to stand still in that moment. Nobody else mattered. It was just her and her bull-headed idiot standing a few feet away from her.

She wanted to speak, wanted her mouth to form words, but her throat was dry and the words did not come.

He smiled at her, but it did not reach his eyes. He understood, and that was enough for her. His silent confirmation made her make up her mind. Arya would no longer stay in Westeros.

* * *

Podrick Payne had decided to go with her on her journey west of Westeros. He was there with Sansa and Ser Brienne as they said goodbye to her.

"Ser Brienne, with your permission, I would like to go with Lady Arya on her voyage," Podrick said, the nervousness he used to possess gone from his voice. "My whole life, I had been nothing but a squire. Now, I am a knight, and I wish to travel the world, if Lady Arya will have me, of course."

Arya was confused, but she shrugged. It made no difference to her. Plus, it might be nice to have someone she knew on her trip with her. She wasn't close with Podrick, but the two of them had an easy going relationship. They had become good acquaintances, possibly friends, in their time together at Winterfell.

Ser Brienne arched her eyebrow. "Are you sure, Pod?"

He nodded. "I am."

"Well, in that case, you do not need my permission. You are of my same ranking, Ser Podrick Payne." A sad yet proud smile danced across her features. "I thank you. You have been a great friend to me in the past few years, and I know no man more honorable than you."

Podrick smiled before ignoring the pleasantries and pulling her into a hug. It was an awkward hug, but it warmed Arya's heart.

When they pulled apart, Podrick joined her side with a goofy smile on his face.

"Take care of yourself, sister," Sansa said, pulling the other she-wolf to her. "Winterfell will always be your home as well."

"I know," Arya said into her shoulder. As they pulled apart, Arya grinned up at the woman in front of her. Gone was the young and frail Sansa Stark, a silly girl with hopes and dreams of marrying a prince and bearing his children. Instead, with grace and strength stood the Queen of the North.

Her heart swelled with pride, and Arya knew that her sister would move mountains.

* * *

Arya stood in her cabin in front of a mirror, braiding her hair back before twirling it around to make a tight bun at the back of her head. Grabbing her dagger, she slid out of her cabin and made her way up to the deck. They were about to set sail.

She walked in between all of the men who were working, stocking the ship with supplies and adjusting the sails, hollering at each other commands. She walked up to the front and wrapped her fingers around the railing. Arya took a deep breath, taking in the smell of the sea. For the first time since the burning of King's Landing, she didn't smell burning flesh or the clay that lingered on everyone's hands after all reconstruction.

Instead, she smelled salt and clean air. She didn't know what was to come, but she knew that she was on the right path, at least for now.

"Lady Arya?" one of the crewmen asked her. He was short and young, his features giving away that he was from the north. A part of him reminded her of her little brother Rickon with his boyish face and bright blue eyes.

"Arya," she corrected with a slight grimace. A lady she was not. If she was, she probably wouldn't be here.

"Right," he said with a nervous chuckle. "Um, I was given this to give to you. The way he was dressed, I'm assuming he was a lord."

Her stomach turned as he gave her the package. "Thank you. What is your name?"

"Berone, m'lady," he said, fidgeting with his hands. "I'm actually from Winterfell, as well. I grew up in the bakery."

Arya smiled recalling the biting cold and the crunch of snow beneath her feet when she was a child in Winterfell, the smell of freshly baked bread filling the streets. "Berone, I look forward to getting to know you. It will be good to have a reminder of home here."

Berone blushed, muttering something incoherent before walking away.

With curiosity, Arya ripped open the package to find a note before the box. She set the box in front of her before unfolding the note's contents.

_My dearest Arya,_

_Since you shattered the last one, I figured you might want a new one. Hope it lives up to your expectations. _

_Sincerely,_

_Your stupid Bull, _

_Gendry._

Arya didn't realize that she had been crying until a tear landed on his note. She knew that he couldn't read or write, yet she somehow knew that this was his handwriting. Ser Davos must have helped him, she realized. Wiping her cheeks, she folded it back up and placed it in the back pocket of her trousers. She picked the box up and opened it to find a dual-ended spear similar to the one that he had made her before the battle of Winterfell. The ends were no longer made of dragon glass, but Valyrian steel. How he managed to get his hands on that, she didn't know. At the middle, there was silver grip with the Stark sigil engraved into it.

Her breath caught at the detail, the precision. The skill used to make it was far superior to anything she had ever seen. It was perfect.

"Arya?" Podrick asked, coming up behind her. "What is that?"

The boat was then released into the water, and they were officially on their way to nowhere.

Looking back at King's Landing, she smiled, twirling the gift in her hands and testing out its weight. "A gift from my family."


	2. Chapter 2

In the month that she had been traveling at sea, Arya had never felt more at peace. There was no one trying to kill her, no impending threat that might danger her and her family, no death at all. Sure, one man fell overboard the other day, but that was due to the amount of Dornish wine that he had been drinking. He was sober enough not to drown, and the men were able to bring him back on board all while laughing about how he couldn't hold his booze.

Podrick had grown to be a dear friend of hers. He was kind and gentle, yet had a sharp tongue on him that Arya found very amusing if you got him drunk enough. He didn't treat her as if she was superior to him, or even less than, but an equal. That was all she ever wanted out of a companion. She couldn't help but think of how Podrick and Gendry would have gotten along. The bull would most likely find Podrick's comments annoying, for Gendry really didn't like anyone until he got to know them. Then Podrick and he would have one interesting conversation, and Gendry would start to open up to him.

She smiled at the thought. As much as she wished Gendry was here, she was glad that he was at Storm's End and figuring everything out. Bran had sent her a letter last week filling her in over everything happening in the six kingdoms and the north. He mostly wrote of how his council could rarely get along, but that was mostly Ser Bronn of the Blackwater's fault. They were working on finding the funds to rebuild King's Landing, Winterfell, and the other castles of the north that were overcome by the White Walkers. Because of this, Sansa and he were in frequent correspondence.

Just as she guessed, her sister was thriving in her new role as the Queen of the North. She wrote Arya weekly with updates on the north. Most of it was mindless information Arya did not truly care about to know, however she sensed that Sansa was lonely. She had no one at Winterfell since Ser Brieanne stayed in King's Landing with Bran, and Jon was up at the wall.

One thing that Arya found interesting was her sister's interest in the King's Hand and her former husband.

_"There are things we said at the Battle of Winterfell that we have not discussed yet," _Sansa wrote to her in the middle of a three-page letter. _"I can't help but wonder about what could have been if I never left him in King's Landing all those years ago. I thought maybe after the Dragon Queen was killed, he would come to Winterfell with me, however now he is the hand again and has his own sacred duty to fulfill. I just can't help but wonder."_

She rolled her eyes at that. Sansa would never truly come to grasp her feelings for Tyrion Lannister, she was sure of that. It was obvious to her, but the two of them were living in denial about what the past meant. But then again, it was the past, and Arya knew better than anyone that the past was sometimes meant to stay there.

Her present had never been so simple. West of Westeros was just a bunch of islands so far, some big and some small. The people on these islands were typically very peaceful and less advanced industrially then Westeros and Essos. It was refreshing to Arya; they lived simple lives.

Podrick and her were just about to board the ship off of their most recent island when her stomach lurched, making her run to the edge of the dock and spill her lunch. Podrick was there right next to her, holding back the hair that was not tied back, his other hand rubbing circles on her back.

"I don't think it's food poisoning," Podrick said as she wiped her mouth with the back of her sleave, spitting into the sea to get the taste out of her mouth.

"I don't care what you think," Arya hissed. "I told you, I don't get sick. It must have been whatever that meat was at Opet. That woman did not like me. Must have fed me rotten dog or something."

"I doubt she fed you rotten dog," he said, standing back up. "Okay, if you're so sure, then how come I'm not vomiting over the deck, hm? I ate the same thing as you at Opet, and so did half of the other men. Just admit you're sick."

"I'm not sick!"

"Yeah, and I'm a virgin. Plus, we were at Opet two weeks ago. Can't be food poisoning."

Arya rolled her eyes and spit again. "Ugh. Fine, I'm sick. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Podrick shrugged, a smug look on his face. "Well, hopefully, there will be a maester to take a look at you when we find more land."

"I don't need to have someone take a look at me, thank you very much. I'll be fine."

He sighed deeply, knowing that Arya Stark listened to nobody but her own stupid ideas. No matter how irritated he was with her, he was worried. Arya had been puking up her meals for the past week. She had gotten pale and somehow more irritable than ever. But she was stubborn as hell, so he ignored it as they walked up to the ship.

"So, what is the plan?" he asked her as she sat down on one of the boxes, her head inbetween her knees.

"What do you mean what is the plan? Same plan we've had for months."

"So, still no plan."

She groaned, sitting up at him and giving him an irritated glare. "No, there is no plan. Look, Podrick, you know what you signed yourself up for when you decided to leave King's Landing with me."

"I know. I just figured..."

"You just figured what?"

Podrick took a deep breath before looking over at her annoyed face. "I just thought that maybe we'd stay in one place for more than three days. I don't know, get to know the people a bit? Isn't that what this exploratory trip was for?"

Arya pressed her lips together tightly, trying not to snap at him. Podrick had been nothing but kind to her, but she just felt irritated with him at the moment.

"If you're not happy with our travel plans, then I will find you a new ship, and you can go back to Westeros." She stood up and tried to walk away, but her stomach lurched again, and she was running toward the edge of the boat once more.

Podrick was at her side again, despite her expecting him to get fed up with her and turn back to his cabin. "You know, I'm not leaving you."

"Why not? It's what everyone else does."

"Do they? Or do you push them away, Princess Stark?" he snapped.

Arya looked up at him. Not once has she seen Podrick lose his temper or say even something slightly rude to anyone.

As if he realized it himself, he looked down at his shoes and started fidgeting with his sleeve. "I'm sorry, that was cruel."

"No," she said, looking up at him. "You're right." She sighed and sunk down so her back was pressed up against the side of the ship. After a couple of moments, Podrick sat next to her as well. "I do push people away. When I was growing up, everyone was disappointed with me. My mother, brothers, especially Sansa. Everyone except for Jon. Then he left me, and it felt like everyone after that did too. Half of my family is gone and the other half are not who they used to be."

"Is that why you started this voyage?"

She nodded. "Yes. Sure, I could have stayed in Winterfell with Sansa, but there was no purpose for me there. I could have gone with Jon to Castle Black and beyond the wall, but that seemed to hold little meaning either. I could have gone with Gendry to Storm's End and become his lady, but then what? How many years until I would be obligated to have children? How many years until we lose whatever it is we have, and we end up like Cerci and the fat king? My parents are the only couple that I have ever seen that has actually been happy with one another and not completely miserable."

She glanced over at Podrick to find a look of shock planted on his features.

"I'm missing something."

She let out a small laugh and threw her head against the wood behind her. "Gendry asked me to marry him after the Battle of Winterfell. He wanted me to be the new Lady Baratheon. Stupid, right?"

"Why is it stupid?"

She narrowed her eyes at him quizzically. "Pod, can you seriously see me as the lady of some house? Me?"

He shrugged. "Not right now, no. But in five or ten years? Yeah, for sure."

Arya didn't know what to think of that, so she just sat there with Podrick as the ship started to move again.

"Pod?"

"Hm?"

"Why did you decide to come with me?"

"I'm not quite sure," he answered honestly. "When Brieanne told me what you were doing, I just kind of knew that was my purpose. At first, I thought it was due to my curiosity. I've not seen much of the world and knowing what lies out there was highly intriguing to me. But now? I don't know. I think that I'm here for something else."

A silence swept over the two as they rocked against the waves with the ship.

"Pod?"

"Hm?"

"I'm glad you did."

He smiled and squeezed her hand gently. "Me too."

Arya smiled back, a moment of quiet peace passing between them. That was before Arya's stomach lurched for the third time, and she bolted up, leaning over the edge of the ship again.

"Food poisoning my ass..." Podrick grumbled, peeling himself off of the deck.

"Oh, just shut up, will you?!"


	3. Chapter 3

Even though she was no longer puking twenty-four-seven, Podrick made Arya seek out a maester on the next island they went to called Ponomae. There, they met a woman name Tirry, the acting Maester of the island or "the healer" as the islanders called her. Upon her examination, Tirry told her that she wasn't sick, but that she was with child. She advised the two of them that it would be best for her to stay on the island until the little babe was born.

Podrick, of course, agreed with Tirry, claiming that it was too dangerous for Arya to give birth at sea, and Ponomae was the perfect place for the time being.

Reluctantly, she gave in, and she and the crew ended up making camp there. The people of the island gave the whole crew a couple of large huts on the beach in exchange for their hunting and gathering skills, and the Westerossi ended up making a home there for the time being.

Arya had fallen in love with the place, yet she was yearning to get back out on the sea while everyone else seemed to never want to leave.

The more pregnant she became, the more irritable her moods were. Day by day, she received more restrictions on her movements. Now, she felt as if the babe had taken over her body completely. It was incredibly frustrating, however, she had never been happier. Although she wasn't sure if she ever wanted children, the thought was growing on her very quickly now that she really didn't have a choice.

Podrick told her that motherhood suited her which made her scoff.

"I'm going to be an awful mother," she told him one day. "I'm not cut out for this. Sansa is. I'm not. My mother made that blatantly clear."

Pod rolled his eyes at her, a habit that he had picked up by spending so much time with the she-wolf. "You killed the Night King. This will be nothing compared to that."

Although she had fear of her future now, she had never been more certain of who was going to be there. She had her little one, and that was enough for her.

She came to this realization a couple of nights before she gave birth. It was one of the rare days that she was not exhausted and so irritable that she didn't want to speak to anyone.

Exiting her hut, she made her way down to the shore where she sat just before the wet sand. The sea was calm, and the sky was a bright orange with hints of purple. That was Arya's favorite part about Ponomae: the sunsets. There was nothing better than to see a sky of colors right above the large, crystal blue waves.

Podrick came over from the main area where some of the crew members were drinking ale with two bowls of a stew of some sort and sat one of them in front of her.

"Thanks. I was starving," she said, her stomach rumbling in agreement.

"You're always starving."

"You'd be too if the little guy took all of your food for himself."

Podrick laughed and sat down next to her, careful not to tip over his own stew. "What are you going to do if it's a girl."

"Hm?" she asked as she shoveled her food into her mouth.

"You've called it a him since you found out you were pregnant."

"Cause he's a boy."

"You don't know that."

"I do," she stated, wiping her mouth and putting her bowl down. "My mother used to say that she predicted the gender of every single one of us kids. She said that Tully women were just more tuned in to that kind of stuff. I didn't believe her until this little guy. If I have this babe and it ends up a girl, then my mother is full of shit."

He chuckled at that before diving into his own stew.

After they had finished their meal, Podrick stacked the wooden bowls and put them to his empty side.

"Are we leaving right after he's born," he asked, staring at the sea instead of her.

"I'm not sure," she admitted, laying down so that she was propped up by her elbows. "What do you want to do?"

He shrugged, moving his ankle back and forth in the sands, creating a design. "I'd like to stay for a little while longer, but it's up to you."

Arya glanced over at him. "It's up to you too. We're a team, you and I. You're part of my pack."

Podrick smiled and looked down at his lap, blushing slightly before looking to meet her eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah, really." A moment passed between the two of them before she suddenly turned to him. "That means you can't leave me. Got it?"

"Got it."

"The little guy too."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

She smiled as they watched the sun disappear behind the sea.

"We can't keep calling him the little guy though when he's born, though," Podrick pointed out. "You're going to have to think of a name."

Arya laid down fully, moving her head so it would make an indent in the sand for comfort. "I'm at a loss with names, actually. I figured I'd see him and know it right away."

"And if you don't?"

"Then he remains 'little guy' until I think of something I like enough," she said. "Besides, the Starks have always named their babes after people, usually other dead Starks."

"Then why not name him Jon? Or Eddard? That was your father's name, right?"

She nodded. "Yes, but for some reason, giving him one of their names doesn't seem to fit him. I'm not opposed to giving him someone's name, but not those."

"What about Beric? Didn't he save you at the Battle of Winterfell? Thus saving us all?"

She pressed her lips together while that night flew through her mind. "Sandor," she said a couple of minutes later. "Sandor."

"The Hound?" Podrick questioned.

"He saved my life," she stated simply. "In more ways than one, really. He always looked out for me and protected me, even though I was convinced that was the last thing I needed. He was hard and stubborn, but he was all I had for a while. I trusted him."

Arya was startled as she felt a gentle kick. She sat up and placed her hands on her stomach. "He likes it!" She grabbed Podrick's hand and put it where she felt the kick, and just a second later, another one came.

"They're not as sharp as usual," she observed. "See? It's like an agreement."

"Yeah," he said before pulling his hand back. "Sandor Stark. I like it."

Arya laid back down. "Pod?"

"Yeah?"

"A year more here and that's it. I don't want us to get too attached."

He nodded and smiled at her. "I promise I'll drag you back to your boat, Captain."


	4. Chapter 4

When Sandor Stark was just shy of his fifth name day, Arya and Podrick arrived back in Westeros.

Ravens had not been able to reach them for a couple of years now, and they were becoming homesick. Arya had hoped the last one she sent had reached Winterfell, letting Sansa know that she was alive and well and didn't know when she would be able to return. Even then, that was years ago.

The ship with the black direwolf sails ended its voyage at the end of Blackwater Bay. The familiar sight had made Arya sigh in relief. Just a couple moons on horseback and she would be home.

Her men dropped the anchor and started loading off all of the items that they had found on the journey. As they passed her, they thanked her or hugged her. They were all going home with riches that they had come across at the hundreds of locations that they had visited over the years. Gems that they had never seen before now were in their pockets and thousands of new ideas filled their head.

When just a few remained, Arya walked around the ship one last time, running her hand on the rail and closing her eyes for just a minute, soaking up the last few minutes of listening to the waves.

She was interrupted by two sets of loud footsteps running across the wooden deck planks.

"Mommy, hide me!" Sandor yelled coming into view, diving for her legs and hiding behind them.

Podrick then hopped out right in front of her. "Lady Arya, I'm afraid you are harboring a fugitive."

She rolled her eyes at the title and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Am I now?"

Sandor giggled from behind her and switched over solely to her right leg, holding on for life.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Now, hand over the boy."

"Well, I must abide by the rules..." She picked up her leg and placed it in front of her so Sandor was right in front of Podrick.

"No!" Sandor screamed as Podrick pried him off of her and threw him over his shoulder.

Podrick gave her a slight bow. "Thank you, Lady Arya."

"Traitor," Sandor huffed under his breath, giving up fighting Podrick and just laying limp.

She kissed her son's forehead and brushed a piece of his black hair out of his eyes. "I'm dreading being called that again," she said to Podrick.

"They won't call you a lady anymore."

"Hm?"

"You're a princess now. It will be Princess Arya."

Arya groaned loudly, and Podrick laughed, setting Sandor down.

"Wow. You're a princess of the north and of The Six Kingdoms."

"Podrick Payne, stop speaking if you value your life..." She reached her hand out to Sandor who quickly grabbed it. "Besides, everyone probably thinks we died at sea."

* * *

Riding up to the gates of Winterfell was surreal. Wintertown had once just been a small village, but now it was almost the size of what King's Landing once was before it was burned down, although she is sure that had probably been rebuilt too. There was such life to it. There were so many new bakeries, inns, shops, and homes.

"They probably added a couple of brothels, huh?" Podrick said, taking in it's the increased size.

"What's a brothel?" Sandor asked innocently, turning awkwardly on her horse to look up at her.

Arya sighed and glared at Podrick. "Really?"

Podrick laughed and rode his horse close enough to theirs to where he could ruffle Sandor's hair. "I'll tell you when you're older."

Arya swatted at his hand, causing him to laugh harder. "Great, now he's going to start asking what a brothel is at least once a day. Thank you."

Although he was generally a shy and quiet boy, Sandor had a curiosity like no other. He spent most of his time exploring or pestering her, Podrick, or the crew on a number of questions. Arya had been teaching him to read, just a little bit, but he was soaking it up like a sponge. Yes, his curiosity and free will were directly passed down from his mother.

His appearance, however, did not resemble her a bit. She could tell by his stature alone that he would not be shorter than her for much longer. His raven black hair was always growing long and in his face, often times covering up those blue eyes of the sea.

When they reached the gates, Arya rode up to the two men in control of it.

"Tell Lady Sansa that Lady Arya is here to see her," she told them.

Podrick cleared his throat after the men looked at each other with confusion.

"I mean the queen. Queen Sansa."

The blonde man stepped closer. "Lady Arya? As in Arya Stark? The Night King Slayer?"

"Yes, I am she," she said, glad that she was recognized for that and not just her title. "I request an audience with my sister."

The other man was quick to give the command to open the gate before sliding in himself, hurrying to go alert his queen of the unannounced guests.

"My Lady, it is so good to see you alive," the blonde said again. "The North believed that you were lost at sea. Welcome home."

"It's good to be back."

They rode into the courtyard, and Arya let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. She was home.

Podrick slid off of his horse and gave its reigns to one of the men before walking over to them. With Arya's help, he grabbed Sandor and hoisted him off the horse, setting him down gently on the ground.

Arya then hopped off and gave her reigns to the same man. "Thank you," she said as he began to lead their horses to the stables. She bent down and adjusted Sandor's hair so it was a little less unruly. She kissed his forehead before standing up, grabbing his little hand.

Then, with four men with her, she saw her sister walk out of the castle and into the courtyard. Her red hair was pulled into a style of many Northern braids, a simple silver crown on her head. She wore a dark blue fitted gown with large furs across her shoulders. She looked like a real Queen of the North.

"Arya," her sister breathed before walking briskly toward her and pulling her into a tight hug. "You're alive."

"I believe its quite hard to kill me, so yes," she said into her shoulder.

Sansa pulled back and smiled at her, taking in her appearance. "You look marvelous."

Arya rolled her eyes. "I am simply a flea in the presence of a queen."

"That is not true at all." Sansa glanced over at Podrick and smiled at him. "Ser Podrick."

"My Queen," he responded, nodding his head in respect.

Then her eyes found Sandor, widening in surprise. She pointed at him, mouth slightly ajar before looking back at her sister. "Is he..."

Arya smiled and crouched down next to her son. "Sandor, this is your Aunt Sansa. Sansa, this is Sandor Stark."

"Sandor?" Sansa asked.

Arya nodded.

"Stark?"

"Through and through."

Sansa looked heavily confused. She looked at the child, a small replica of the Lord of Storms End, then back to Podrick who was holding his hand, then back to her sister. "I must say, I am lost."

Arya shrugged. "I'll fill you in later, but quite frankly, we're quite hungry, and I would kill for a nice bath."

"Right," she said, snapping back to her queen persona. "Yes, of course. How rude of me. We will hold a feast in the great hall for you in a couple of hours to celebrate your return to us."

"Thank you, Sansa."

"You may have your chambers. They have remained untouched. I'll have a bath drawn for you there in a few short moments. Rickon's former room will be set up for young Sandor here, and Ser Podrick..." she said trailing off as if she couldn't find the words to say.

"Podrick..."

Podrick smiled awkwardly.

"Separate rooms or..."

Arya laughed, her sister's behavior highly entertaining her. "Yes, separate rooms."

Sansa let out a small sigh of relief. "Of course. I'll have a room set up for Ser Podrick near Sandor's."

"Thank you, My Queen," Podrick said.

Sansa nodded her head and turned away, walking back toward the castle.

"Well, that was fun," Arya mumbled before grabbing Sandor's other hand and leading the both of them to where they could find rest.


	5. Chapter 5

A hot bath was a luxury that Arya had greatly missed. As she stepped into the steaming water, she sighed in relief, sinking down so only her head was above the water. She took her hair out of its usual bun, unbraiding it before letting it fall in the water. It was much longer then she had it before, reaching almost to her hip. She didn't realize the length because it was always tied up and therefore had never been a problem to her.

Sandor slept in her bed a few feet away, covered by furs. She smiled as she gazed upon her son. He was her whole world, and now he was where she grew up. At first, she was worried that she made the wrong call by ending their voyage. Sandor had loved the sea just as much as she did, but she wanted a stable place to raise him, a place he could call home.

When she was drying off, she heard a knock at the door. She grabbed a robe and put it on quickly, moving the towel to her hair. "Come in."

Sansa then opened the door. Upon noticing her sleeping nephew, she shut it quietly. "Do you want to go someplace else to talk?" she asked quietly.

Arya shook her head, drying off the ends of her hair. "Here is fine. Sandor sleeps like the dead."

Sansa walked over to the table in the corner and grabbed two wine glasses, pouring a bit into each glass and handing one to her sister.

Arya sighed in content as the Dornish wine met her lips. "I forgot how delicious this was."

Her sister laughed and took a sip of her own glass. "You know, I was worried sick about you. I made Bran write in every letter he sent me that you were still alive, but he told me nothing else. He could have mentioned my nephew..."

Arya smiled and hung the towel over the edge of the bed, joining her sister at the table. "I guess that would have been a simple way."

"You also could have let me know you were coming once you were close enough. I would have had everything prepared and let everyone know."

"Which is exactly why I did not tell you," she said, taking another sip of the wine. "I am never leaving Westeros again unless it is with an endless supply of this."

Sansa smiled. "How were your travels?"

"They were amazing," she said truthfully, setting the glass down and making her way to the vanity, grabbing a hairbrush. "I met so many people and learned so many new things. Sansa, you would have loved this one island we went to called Bennea. The women there were dressed in all of these fine fabrics with intricate designs. Everything had an etching on it, and it was simply gorgeous."

"I would have loved to see it."

Arya ran her brush through her hair. "I can't believe the development of Wintertown. It's so lively. You've done wonders here, Sansa."

"I've had lots of help. My people are kind and generous, and that has helped speed up my efforts."

"It's incredible, it truly is."

A pause passed between the two sisters, and Arya set her brush back down and sat with her sister once more. "Go on, ask your questions," she said with the wave of her hand.

"Who is Sandor's father?" she said quickly. Sansa was many things, but patient was not one of them. She thrived on having all of the information at her hands.

Arya sighed and took a long drink of her wine. "I believe you know him as the Lord of Storms End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands," she said with annoyance.

At that, Sansa took a large drink of her wine. "Gendry Baratheon. I knew something was going on between the two of you all those years ago. Why did you leave if you were pregnant with his child?"

"I didn't know that I was pregnant with Sandor then!" she exclaimed defensively.

From the bed, Sandor shifted but did not wake.

"Why didn't you come back when you found out?" Sansa asked quietly.

"What was there for me to come back to, Sansa? To Winterfell? To Storm's End? Become Lady Baratheon and live the rest of my days out knowing that I never got to do the one thing I've wanted to do for years? To be free? Believe it or not, I do not regret a single second of it."

"If you would have done that, your son would not have been a bastard..."

"My son is not a bastard!" she yelled, fuming. "You know what, it was a mistake coming back here..."

"No," Sansa said, putting her hand on her arm. "Forgive me, that was out of line. I didn't mean it like that. Don't leave."

Arya shook her arm off and took another sip. "Look, I know that this all must be odd for you, but..."

"I know. I know, and I'm sorry." The two sisters sat in silence for a while longer before Sansa looked over at her sleeping nephew. "You know, he's a copy of Gendry, but he does have the Stark nose."

Arya snorted, smiling widely. "He does, doesn't he?"

"I hate to overstep my boundaries, however, what role does Ser Podrick play in all of this?"

Arya shrugged and poured herself and Sansa some more of the Dornish wine. "He's my best friend, part of my pack. He's been good to Sandor and I."

"Are the two of you romantically involved?"

She shook her head and put the lid back on the decanter. "No, we are not. Soley between you and I, there were a few nights here and there when we were lonely, but I don't know, Sansa. We aren't meant for each other like that."

"Does Sandor know who his father is?"

Arya pursed her lips before sipping at the wine again. "Yes and no. I tell him that his father looks just like him and the stories of when we were on the road together. He doesn't know his name or that he is a lord. All he knows is that we were in love but the world got in the way."

Sansa nodded, smoothing her skirts. "Are you planning on telling Lord Baratheon?"

Arya threw her head back and groaned. "Ugh, I don't know. Should I?"

"Yes. He should know he has an heir."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure he has many heirs by now."

Sansa pressed her lips together tightly, considering her options. It was a face Arya knew well. "Well, actually Sandor is the only one."

"Really?" Arya said, trying to feign indifference.

"Yes. He has yet to even take up a Lady Baratheon."

A small smile played against Arya's lips as her heart beat increased. "Hm."

Sansa rolled her eyes. "Say it."

"Say what?"

She eyed her, giving her the all-knowing Sansa Stark look.

"There is nothing to say," she mumbled, taking a sip of her wine. "How is he?"

Sansa sighed, leaning back in her chair. "He's alright. Different, but alright. He's a fine lord. The people of the Stormlands adore him and are thriving."

"That's good. Different how?"

"Well, he resembles Brann in his emotional capacity. He was all alone at Storm's End since Ser Davos is now apart of Brann's council. He's happier now that Lady Baratheon is there-"

"What?" Arya demanded, her grip tightening on her glass. "You just told me there was no Lady Baratheon!"

Sansa rolled her eyes in amusement at her sister's jealousy. "Would you calm down? She's his sister. Apparently, he wasn't the only Baratheon to survive. Lady Marlena Baratheon, formerly Marlena Sand. She was legitimized by Bran last year."

Arya smiled to herself. "Marlena Baratheon, huh?"

"She's lovely," Sansa commented. "You'd love her." She glanced over at Sandor again. "Arya, he needs to meet him."

Arya sighed. "I know. But how? Do we just ride to Storm's End, and I hand over Sandor and say 'Hi Gendry, it's lovely to see you after all these years. Do you remember when we had sex before we all thought we were going to die? Well, look what we made!' Stupid..."

"Well, that's one way to do it, but I suggest calling him Lord Baratheon."

Arya groaned loudly. "Ugh!"

Sansa straightened up. "I think I know exactly what to do."

"Please, dear sister, enlighten me," Arya mumbled before downing her wine. "Share your queenly wisdom."

"Well, in three months time, there is the royal wedding."

"What?!"

"Seriously, Arya, I have no clue how that child sleeps through all of your yellings."

"You're getting married?!"

"Not me," she said. "Bran."

"What!?"

"Meera Reed."

"Huh," she said dumbly. "I thought he doesn't feel any emotions."

Sansa made a face of slight confusion. "He does a little bit, I guess? I don't know. All I know is that she returned to him last year, and he is quite fond of her. Tyrion suggested a wedding so the people of The Six Kingdoms would have a queen."

"Huh."

"It's supposed to be this month long ordeal. My advisor will be taking over the dealing of the north for a while. Apparently, all the lords of the major houses will be there."

Arya smiled slightly to herself. "Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"We'll go with you."

Sansa smirked, the first part of her plan in motion. "Perfect."


	6. Chapter 6

"I'll never get over how beautiful this castle is," Marlena Baratheon said to her brother, looking up at The Red Keep. "It's marvelous that they were able to repair it so quickly."

"Yeah, marvelous," muttered Gendry.

Personally, Gendry hated the sight of the castle and everything else about it. Growing up in Flea Bottom, the castle stood as a reminder that he would never be more than a lowly bastard. Little did he know, he enjoyed being a bastard far more than being a lord.

"Gendry, please smile," his sister begged. "You look much more pleasant when you smile."

"Why would I need to look more pleasant? What is the point?"

Marlena rolled her eyes. "Well, you're not going to find yourself a wife looking all sullen and depressed."

Gendry sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "How many times do I have to tell you, I would rather die than be paired with any of these women. They're all boring and distasteful."

"Oh hush," she scolded. "You need an heir, Gendry."

"I really don't. When I die, Storm's End can just go to you and your child."

"But what if I don't marry and have a child either? I don't want to be paired with any of the stupid lords of Westeros."

"Hippocrite..."

Marlena laughed and looped her arm through Gendry's. "I guess the council can just elect the new lord when we die, just like they'll do with the King."

"Sounds good to me." He lead her out of the castle and into the gardens. They had arrived a couple of days early at King's Landing for the royal wedding since they expected their travel time to take a bit longer than it did.

"Oh, but Gendry, I don't want you to be alone in that big castle. You deserve to have a wife. You need someone to love and complete you. That's all I wish for, honestly. If I found that, I would never let it go."

He narrowed his brows in thought. "What if I had that, but I let it go?"

"I always knew that you were pining over someone all this time," she said, an amused smile across her lips. "I doubt all is ruined, dear brother. Just don't be blind to the other opportunities for happiness, alright? You could fall in love again."

Gendry highly doubted that. It had been five years and he still saw her face every night in his dreams. There was an empty pit in his soul that she had left when she told him that she would not be with him. He figured it would heal eventually, but the process was slow and unbearable.

"What about The Queen in the North?" Marlena asked.

"Sansa?"

"Mmhm."

"What about her?"

"Marriage, silly."

"No."

"Why not? She's very beautiful."

Yes, Sansa Stark was very beautiful, but she held no candle to her sister in Gendry's eyes.

"Marlena, I don't want to even be a lord, let alone a king." He hoped that the answer would appease her. "Plus, she is in love with Lord Tyrion."

"If you say so," she singsonged. "I hear she will be arriving quite soon. The king told me that she would be arriving with Ser Podrick and her sister tomorrow afternoon."

Gendry stopped and turned to face Marlena. "Her sister?"

"Yes. Princess Arya, the Night King Slayer? She and Ser Podrick had just returned from years at sea."

He knew that she had set sail for west of Westeros, but he didn't know that Podrick Payne went with her. "Huh. And how do you know this?"

"Lord Tyrion told me. He received a letter from Queen Sansa just the other day."

Gendry was at a loss for words. He had not seen Arya since the council meetings all those years ago. His heart started to race, and he felt his palms become sweaty. He didn't know how to act.

Marlena and he continued to keep walking through the garden, passing a few other lords and ladies on the way, nodding their heads in acknowledgment.

"Gendry?" she asked him.

"Yes?"

"Did you ever know Princess Arya? She fought in the war with you, didn't she?"

"She did and yeah, I actually knew her quite well."

"Is she as incredible as everyone says?"

"Yeah," he breathed. "She really is."

Marlena smiled slyly, not missing the sudden change in her brother's demeanor. "Tell me about her."

Gendry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, what do you wish to know?" He unlaced his arm from hers and mentioned to one of the benches by the roses.

"Everything!" she exclaimed, crossing her leg and looking up at him with interest.

"Well about ten years ago..."

* * *

"I'm not wearing the damn dress, Sansa," Arya stated as her sister held up a dress for her.

They were stopped at an inn just outside of Kings Landing, and Podrick and all of the soldiers that had traveled with them were getting plastered downstairs. Sansa, Arya, and Sandor were sitting in Arya's room.

Sansa looked up at her from the bed with large, pleading eyes. "But dear sister, I made it just for you."

"That was mighty stupid of you, knowing I don't wear the damn things."

"But you will to appease me, won't you?" she begged, clearly having fun with it. "It's your first day in King's Landing in over five years and you're just going to show up looking like that?"

Arya looked down at her tunic and trousers. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing? I like it."

"It's not what you wear to a royal wedding."

"Well, it's not what I'm wearing for the wedding, it's what I'm wearing to arrive."

"Lord Baratheon will be there..."

"So? Gendry would think I have lost whatever sense I had if I showed up in a dress."

Sansa shook her head, pressing her lips together. "No, I think he'd think you'd look hot."

Arya rolled her eyes poured a glass of water for Sandor, setting it next on the nightstand next to him.

"Mommy, who is Lord Baratheon?" Sandor asked with wide eyes.

She crouched by him and pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Well, he is one of the main Lords of the Six Kingdoms."

"And?" Sansa muttered.

Arya faked a tight smile. "And he's one of my old friends before Pod and I went on our voyage. He actually made me my special weapon."

At that, Sandor grinned from ear to ear with mischief, knowing of the double ended spear that his mother had kept safe, yet on display in her cabin in the ship. "Do you think he'll make me a weapon?"

She chuckled and patted his knee. "Maybe if you ask him very nicely."

"I want a sword like needle. Can he do that?"

"I'm sure, little guy." Arya walked over to the small table and started to take out her hair. "Sansa, stop looking at me like that."

Sansa shrugged and adjusted herself so she was propped up next to Sandor. "I'm not looking at you in any way."

"Don't."

"I'm not! But I do wish you'd reconsider the dress."

"I'm not wearing the damn dress, Sansa."

"I am your queen!"

"And how is that relevant?"

She crossed her arms in front of her and tilted her chin up. "I command you wear the dress, or you will be executed when we return to Winterfell."

"Great, you do that."

Sansa groaned loudly before turning to Sandor. "Sandor, don't you think your mother would look beautiful in a dress?"

Arya turned sharply toward her. "Do not use my own child against me."

"Mommy, you would look so pretty," Sandor said with his own mischevious smile.

"That's it," Sansa said triumphantly. "I'm officially naming your child my heir. He does my bidding quite nicely."

Arya rolled her eyes. "I'm not wearing the dress."

"Oh please, Arya, if not tomorrow, then at least for the wedding," she pleaded. "I even made a hidden pocket for your dagger there is a belt attachment that holds needle!" She nudged Sandor quickly who then looked up at her with his Baratheon blue eyes, eyes she couldn't resist.

"Fine," she mumbled in defeat.

"YES!"

"But only for the wedding! And boots, Sansa. I'm wearing boots."

"Deal."


	7. Chapter 7

Being in the streets of King's Landing, Arya couldn't breathe. She closed her eyes tightly as the screams filled her ears and the scent of burning bodies filled the air. It was if she was being transported back to that day five years ago. Gasping for breath, she tried to focus enough to stay on her horse, glad that Sandor wanted to ride in the carriage with Sansa.

"Hold up, hold up!" someone yelled, sliding off of their horse and coming up to hers. "Arya, hey, give me your hands."

Shaking, Arya turned to the voice and gave hands over. The person placed them around their neck and lifted her waist off of the horse, picking her up and carrying her to the edge of the road.

She didn't open her eyes, she couldn't. The screams intensified, the ash drifted onto her hair. She covered her head so the buildings wouldn't fall on her.

"Arya, love, it's not real," the voice said. It was very familiar but her senses were too overwhelmed to make out who it was. Their hands grabbed her cheeks, their forehead pressing to hers. "It's not real. It's over. It's alright."

"Podrick?" Arya asked, gasping for breath.

"Yeah, I'm here." He let go of her and ran over to the carriage, opening the door. "Queen Sansa, I'm going to stay back with Arya for a bit. She's not doing well. Do you mind taking Sandor into the palace?"

Sansa nodded. "Of course."

"What's wrong with mommy?" Sandor asked, his blue eyes filled with worry.

Podrick climbed into the carriage and kneeled down next to him. "Nothing's wrong. Mommy just had a rough time last time she was here. Now, listen to your Aunt, alright?"

He nodded.

Podrick kissed the side of his head and smiled at him. "Good. Mommy and I will be at the castle a little bit later. Don't worry."

Sandor nodded again, peeled himself out of the carriage. He heard Sansa give the command to keep moving and off the horses and soldiers went to The Red Keep.

Podrick walked back over to Arya who was wrapped in a ball. This isn't the first time that he had seen this. During the first little bit of their voyage, Arya had frequent nightmares and would wake up crying, screaming about how she couldn't breathe.

"Hey, hey, hey," he said, rubbing circles on her back. "Arya, trust your senses. It's just your brain playing tricks on you."

"I don't want to be here, Pod," she mumbled into her knees. "Take me back home."

He sighed deeply and wrapped his arm tightly around her, pulling her to his chest. "We can't. I wish we could, but we can't."

Podrick wished that the hadn't even left. He was worried that his family would be pulled from away from him. As much as he wanted Arya to be happy, even if that meant with Gendry, and Sandor to finally meet his actual dad, he didn't want to give that up. The two of them had become his entire world and the thought of losing them made him sick to his stomach.

They stayed like that for a while, the entourage gone from sight.

"Do you truly want to go back?" he said after a while. "I can check you into an inn and go grab Sandor and we'll go. You just say the word." He wanted her to say yes so badly but knew that she wouldn't.

"No, no, I'm fine. I just...I don't know. I don't know what happened."

He tucked a stray hair away from her face and behind her ear. "Can you breathe again?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay." Yet, she didn't try to move out of his embrace, making his heart sigh in content.

Podrick didn't know the exact moment that he fell in love with Arya Stark. It could have been one of the nights that they had stayed up all night drinking and telling stories on the dock under the stars. It could have been when she discovered she was pregnant with Sandor, and she looked up at him terrified. He had never seen Arya have an ounce of fear, yet the thought of a child scared her to death. When he told her not to worry, that he'd be there the entire time, he meant it. He wasn't going anywhere. It could have been the day he first met her when she was sparing with Brieanne. Maybe that was why he decided to give up a position on the King's Guard and go on an unknown voyage with the she-wolf. He didn't know, but he did know he was a sucker.

Eventually, she pulled apart and looked up at him. "Should we get going to the castle?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. I heard some of the soldiers talking about a bakery down the corner and how they are famous for their pies. Do you want to go get some?"

She nodded, a slight smile on her lips. "I haven't had pie in years. Is Sandor with Sansa?"

"Yes, she's going to get him situated in the castle so we have plenty of time."

* * *

Sansa was greeted outside of King's Landing by the whole small council, the Baratheons, and the king himself with his soon-to-be bride. She held onto little Sandor's hand and approached her brother.

"Sister," Bran said, "You look marvelous."

Sansa smiled and hugged him. "As do you, dear brother."

Sandor pulled at her skirt from behind her. Within the couple months that he had been at Winterfell, the two had become quite close. A selfish part of her hoped that Arya would not end up going to Storm's End, but stay at Winterfell with her. She had been so lonely all those years and having her sister and nephew there were the happiest months she had seen as queen.

"So, this is Sandor Stark?" Bran asked, causing Sandor to peak out from around Sansa.

She nudged her nephew's shoulder gently. "Go ahead."

Sandor slowly walked up to him and bowed as his aunt taught him. "Your Highness."

The party all gave small laughs, yet all of them eyed the boy with extreme confusion.

Bran quirked his lips to the side. "A perfect mix," he said. "Stark nose."

Sandor beamed at him hearing that. "Mother says I'm a wolf through and through."

"That you are, but perhaps you are a bit more."

Sandor looked up at Sansa with a confused look.

Sansa gave him a quick shrug of her shoulders. Half the time, she didn't even know what Bran was talking about. Although this time was different, she had been in the same position as her nephew many times before.

Sansa moved down the line to the future queen who looked much different than the last time she had seen her. Clad in a gown of Stark colors, Meera Reed looked regal as a queen. "Lady Reed," she said with a slight nod.

"Please, call me Meera," the future queen said, looking as uncomfortable with her title as Arya had always been.

Sansa smiled and moved toward her former husband. "Lord Tyrion," she adressed, trying not to allow any emotion to bubble to the surface.

"My Queen," he said, grabbing her hand and giving it a gentle kiss that lingered just a bit longer than usual, causing Sansa to blush. After the slight trace had passed, he looked over at Sandor and grinned. "Ah, finally someone of my stature," he joked. "Lord Stark, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. Your Aunt has spoken of you often in her letters."

Sandor smiled at the only remaining Lannister. "I like your lion," Sandor said, pointing to the one on the hilt of his dagger.

Tyrion smirked, amusement in his eyes. "I believe you are the first Stark in history to ever say that."

"Queen Sansa," Ser Brieanne said next, bowing in her golden armor.

Sansa grinned and bowed her own head slightly. "Ser Brieanne."

"Yours?" she asked, nodding her head toward Sansa.

Sansa shook her head, placing her hand on her nephew's shoulder. "No, Arya's."

Brianne and almost everyone else looked at her with great confusion.

"And where is Princess Arya?" Brieanne asked, looking around for the smallest of Starks.

"She and Ser Podrick decided to take the long road," Sansa said smoothly, not wanting to give way to what happened with her sister only less than an hour before.

Gendry, who was only a few people away, noticed this exchange. He had never been more confused in his life, he decided. As the Queen of the North continued down the line to the rest of the small council members and his sister, Gendry couldn't help but stare at the boy. Sandor Stark, Arya's son, he thought. The boy was tall for his age, which struck Gendry as odd, seeing as Arya had always been so short in stature. He must have taken after his father, he thought. Was Podrick Sandor's father? Gendry balled his fists up tightly, curling his lips tightly together, yet behind his back so his anger was not noticeable. Of course. That was why she had rejected him and sailed off the map with Ser Podrick Payne. Then why did she go to him that night? It all seemed to be a puzzle to him that was impossible to figure out.

When Sansa reached him, she nodded her head at him slightly, an odd look on her face that he had never seen before. "Lord Baratheon."

"Queen Sansa."

The little one tugged on Sansa's skirt again, looking up at him. "Lord Baratheon?"

Sansa nodded slightly and pursed her lips.

Sandor stepped forward and bowed at him awkwardly. "Lord Baratheon, I am Sandor Stark, and I wish for you to make me a weapon."

Gendry narrowed his eyebrows at him and smiled widely. In just a single sentence, he could tell that he was Arya's son, through and through. "I usually don't make weapons anymore, Lord Stark."

"But you made mother's double spear. It's her favorite. She said I can't touch it 'cause it is too special to her."

Gendry crouched down to match the boy's level, trying to focus himself at the moment and putting the comment at the back of his head for now. "Would you like a spear as well?"

He shook his head sharply. "No, I want my own needle."

Gendry smirked. Yes, this boy was definitely Arya's. "Alright, Lord Stark. Consider it done."

Sandor grinned before nodding his head again quickly and returning to his aunt's side.

As Gendry watched Sandor go down the line with the red-haired Queen in the North, he couldn't help but begin to grow more curious about the boy. He didn't look like Arya at all, but he didn't look like Podrick either. All he knew was that a part of him was thrilled to get to the forge again and start working on a weapon for the Stark. Making weapons for the Starks was what he did best.


	8. Chapter 8

Arya and Podrick decided not to arrive at King's Landing until the next day. Arya knew that Sansa would take care of Sandor and so she had no worries. She and Podrick sat on bar stools at a tavern, pouring alcohol down their throats.

"You know, I believe that this is the first time in about a year that we have been alone without Sandor," she said before sliding her mug forward. "As much as I love my child, I'm having fun."

Podrick grinned and ran his fingers through his shoulder-length hair. "I have to agree." Podrick knew that she had way too much to drink, but he rarely saw Arya Stark without her wits. It was very entertaining to him. "What are you expecting to happen tomorrow?" he asked her.

She sighed deeply as another brew was handed to her by the barmaid. "Honestly, I cannot say I'm quite sure. I don't know what to think of my brother. One minute he has no emotions and cannot hold a conversation regarding how people feel, and now he is getting married."

"And Sandor?"

"Sandor will be fine," she said, thanking the barmaid. "I'm sure my sister has got him situated. I'm curious to see how well he handles everyone. He has my sister's blood, but both of his parents were definitely not politicians. At least, not until now," she grumbled.

Podrick pressed his lips together tightly. He couldn't help it, but it had always bothered him when Arya had spoken of Gendry. It was not just because he had feelings for her, but Podrick had considered himself to be Sandor's stand-in father and had grown to love the boy as his own.

"I don't know, Pod," she said. "A part of me thinks that we are stupid for coming back to Westeros."

"And the other part?"

She sighed deeply and took a large drink of her beer. "The other part feels extremely guilty. We easily could have returned to Westeros before Sandor was born and let Gendry know what had happened."

"And now?"

"And now there will be anger. I know him better than anyone. He will forgive me, but it will take time. But once he finds out, he will be furious with me. Seven hells, I'm furious with myself."

Podrick sat there and sipped his brew, debating his next words in his head. "Do you regret it?"

She took a deep breath before meeting his eyes. "No, I don't. I want to. I should. Sansa let me know that I had made a grand mistake by not telling Gendry. But now? I would not have given up those years for anything."

"Are you sure?"

She smiled slightly, cupping the mug before her. "Yes, I'm sure."

* * *

When everyone broke their fast the next morning, Gendry could not help but become antsy. Arya had still yet to arrive, and he knew that she was out there with Podrick. Deciding he needed to let off some steam, he returned decided to return to The Smithy of King's Landing.

Arriving, Gendry was certain he hadn't felt more at peace in years. The sign of the hearths and lines of swords on the wall made Gendry sigh in content. Sure, he had not given up his love in the years of being Lord of Storm's End, but the time he spent being a blacksmith was very short.

As he picked up an axe that was laying on the anvil, he grinned. He felt more comfortable here than he felt running a castle or walking around King's Landing in the Red Keep.

"Are you making me my sword?" he heard from behind him.

Gendry dropped the axe and turned sharply, noticing little Sandor before him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

Sandor shrugged as he picked at his fingernails. "I followed you."

"And why did you follow me?"

"To see if you were making my sword."

Gendry grinned at the child. Although he was angry for even thinking that Arya moved on, her son reminded her of him on every level. "Well, that is why I am here."

Sandor smiled and plopped himself down on the only bench in the place.

Gendry began to work away, sometimes forgetting the little lord was there, focusing on the sword at hand. A couple of hours passed before the heat began to be to unbearable, and Gendry had to sit down. He wiped his brow and planted himself next to the Stark boy.

"So, how did you escape the castle without your aunt knowing?" Gendry asked him.

Sandor just shrugged, looking down at his boots. "Aunt Sansa is distracted when Lord Tyrion is involved."

Gendry smirked at that. "Smart."

Sandor shrugged again. Although the boy was fairly intelligent, he never liked any attention toward it.

"Did your mother tell you about me?" Gendry asked, portraying it a mild curiosity.

"A bit," Sandor said. "But not much. She told me you were friends and made her spear."

Gendry couldn't help but be slightly offended at that. Here she was, everything in his world, yet he was nothing but a friend who made her a couple of weapons for her.

"Huh," he said before taking a sip of his water that he had put there earlier.

"Lord Baratheon?" Sandor said a couple of minutes later.

"Please, just call me Gendry," he muttered. After only a month of being a lord, Gendry had understood why Arya hated when he called her a lady.

"Gendry?"

"Yes?"

"Did you fight in the battle too?"

Gendry sighed and wiped his forehead of sweat with a rug. "Which one?"

"The Battle of Winterfell."

"Yeah, I did."

"Did you fight with my father?"

He pressed his lips together tightly. When he thought of that battle, he not only thought of the battle itself but the events that had happened only hours before. "Yes, Lord Stark, I did."

"Sandor," the kid said stubbornly.

"Sandor," he repeated. "I didn't know your dad much, but he was on the front lines so I would say he fought very bravely."

Sandor grinned and started swinging his legs. "That's what mother says, but she doesn't say much more. I try to get her to tell me more, but I think it hurts her."

"Does Ser Podrick not tell you stories?"

"Pod didn't know him well, he says."

Gendry stopped at that, narrowing his eyebrows. "Sandor, I hate to admit it, but I am confused."

"Me too."

Gendry didn't know what to say at that. The two sat in silence for a bit before Gendry turned to him after trying to piece together the different answers. "Sandor, is Podrick not your father?"

Sandor shook his head. "No. Podrick has taken care of me, and sometimes mother passed him as my father in different places. She said it was for safety and fewer questions."

Gendry thought about that for a minute. If Podrick wasn't Sandor's father, who was? His curiosity got the best of him, and he couldn't help but ask the child next to him. "Do you know your father?"

Sandor shook his head again. "No. Mother doesn't say much about him. Once though, I waited till she and Pod had drunk too much wine to ask her questions."

Gendry smiled slightly at that. Sansa was definitely a part of her nephew before she had even met him. "Go on," he prodded, his jealousy rising just a bit more, although he was soothed by the fact that his father was not Podrick. It was better that the father was far away than up close.

"Well, Mother said that he was a nobody, that he grew up an apprentice. When she had to go into hiding and pretend she was a boy, he was there. She said he saved her life a couple of times."

As Sandor began to go on with a very familiar story, Gendry realized where his features came from. Yes, he was a Stark by personality. However, in appearance, Sandor Stark was a Baratheon, through and through.

Gendry wasn't listening to Arya's son alone, but also his.


	9. Chapter 9

Showing up to her brother's castle hungover was not fun, Arya had decided. The guards were infuriating and for some reason, the windows did not shield any of the bright sunlight that shone through. Her head was pounding and the world was spinning.

The guards had brought her up the million steps to the castle solar, each step harder and harder than the one before.

"I'm going to vomit," she muttered to Podrick, "and it's your fault."

Podrick laughed, placing his hand on her back. "If I remember correctly, I was the one that said we should have gone to bed but you refused."

"Yeah, if you remember correctly."

When they reached the final stair, they were lead down the hallway in into the solar.

Bran sat there, all by his lonesome in his chair, waiting for her arrival.

"Did you tell anyone else we have arrived?" she asked him.

"No," the king said.

"My son?"

"He is currently in the tea room with Sansa."

Arya groaned in sympathy for him. "Seven hells," she muttered. She then realized the situation she was in and slightly bowed. "King Bran."

"Don't," her brother said.

Podrick was already kneeling with his head bowed. "Your majesty."

"Ser Podrick, please stand."

Podrick stood up and brushed off his armor.

"So, marriage," Arya said, pulling up a chair next to him. "You didn't seem to be the marriage type."

"People change," he said. "You have."

"Not in that way, no."

"Possibly."

Arya rolled her eyes. "You don't give straight answers, do you?"

Bran just slightly smiled. "Answers come with time."

"And you are time, we know," she mumbled, annoyed. "Has Sandor gotten situated?"

He nodded. "Yes. He is fitting in quite nicely. Yesterday he entertained us at dinner with tales of your adventures, this morning Lord Tyrion showed him around the castle and the gardens, then he went to the Smithy with Lord Baratheon, and now he is sitting with his Aunt at tea."

"Good," she sighed before his whole sentence registered in her sloshy brain. "I'm sorry, go back. He was at the Smithy with Gendry?"

Bran nodded.

"Shit. Shit! Shit... Does he..."

"Does he what?"

"Does he know?"

"No, Sandor does not know," he said. "However, Lord Baratheon put the pieces together."

"Shit."

"Your child is very curious as well."

"I know," she grumbled. "Do you mind if I go see him?"

Bran gestured toward the door.

"Thank you. Pod..."

"Actually, I would like to have a conversation alone with Ser Podrick."

Podrick looked slightly terrified but gave her a reassuring nod. "Go on, I'll meet up with you later on."

She gave him a slight smile before walking back down the many, many stairs to the outside patio where Sansa sat with Sandor and two other women.

Sandor was the first to see her, running up and hugging her tightly.

"Hey little guy," she said ruffling his hair. "How are you?"

"Great! These lemon cakes are delicious."

She grinned and turned to her sister. "I'm sorry we showed up so late."

Sansa sipped her tea, lowering her eyes at her sister. "I had half of mind to think that you had turned around."

"Thought about it," she admitted.

Sansa rolled her eyes and set the cup down. "Arya, this is the future queen, Meera Reed, and this is Lady Marlena Baratheon. Ladies, this is my sister, Princess Arya Stark of Winterfell."

Arya tried not to wince at the title, but she really could not escape it by having her siblings being the most powerful people in Westeros. "Pleasure," she said with a slight bow.

Sansa gestured to the seat next to Sandor and Meera and Arya hesitantly took it.

"I hear you're quite good with a bow," Meera said.

"I'm decent."

Sansa rolled her eyes at Arya's false modesty.

Meera smiled at her. "I would like to see sometime. I'm a little rusty myself, but I did save your brother's ass more time than I could count with it."

That was when Arya decided that she enjoyed Meera Reed's company. "I applaud you at that."

Arya glanced over to meet Baratheon eyes. Marlena Baratheon was gorgeous. She was tall with curly dark hair that was done in intricate braids down her back. Her perfectly tanned skin marked that she was definitely from the south.

"Princess Arya, it is so amazing to finally meet you," Marlena said with a beaming smile. "I've heard so many stories of your gallant adventures and accomplishments. It's so great to put a face to the mighty name."

"Thank you," she said wearily. She didn't know how much Marlena knew about... well everything. "Please, call me Arya."

Marlena nodded her head slightly in acknowledgment, a certain gleam in her eye that reminded her of her own sister whenever she was scheming. "We were just talking with Sandor here about your adventures west of Westeros. He's such a smart young man. How old is he? Seven, I would guess."

"He just had his fifth name day a couple of weeks ago on the road," Arya admitted, taking a lemon bar from the table.

"His fifth? He seems so old and mature!"

"Yes, he's brilliant. I'm sure his height adds to it as well."

Marlena sipped her tea and nodded slightly. "Has your family been relatively tall?"

"More or less," she said, wiping the back of her mouth of crumbs. "My eldest brother, Robb, was quite tall. And then there is Sansa. No clue where she gets that from."

Arya imagined that Marlena Baratheon was similar to her sister in demeanor. She seemed gentle and calm, yet was always calculating in her head what everything meant. It made Arya uneasy, yet she had Sansa at her side.

"Interesting. Is the height and build more common in his father's family?"

Arya tried not to let her eyes show what she now knew. Marlena Baratheon knew that Sandor was her nephew as well. Perhaps she knew it even before Gendry, seeing as it wasn't hard to tell. She hadn't seen the Lord of Storm's End in years, but if you put the two next to each other, Sandor looked like a carbon copy.

"Yes, I would say that."

Sandor looked up at her with wide, curious eyes. Whenever she gave any clue of his father, he wrote it down in his little mental pad and stored it for later. She couldn't blame him. And who knows? Maybe it would be easier if Sandor figured it out for himself.

* * *

"Sansa, she knows," Arya told her sister an hour later as they took a walk outside the garden. They were lingering behind Sandor and Lord Tyrion a bit. Watching the two of them talk was highly interesting to her.

"Who knows?"

"Marlena Baratheon. She knows about Sandor."

"Yes, Arya, and so does the whole castle," Sansa said, pursing her lips. "It's hard to hide the secret when he resembles his father that much. In fact, I think everyone at the court knew right away except for Lord Baratheon."

Arya narrowed her eyebrows. "More details here."

"Well, Marlena said that Gendry was convinced that Sandor was your's and Podrick's child..."

"Mine and Podricks?" she said in disbelief. "First off, he looks nothing like Podrick. Second, there is no way that is possible."

"There isn't?" Sansa questioned. "Look at it from Gendry's point of view, hm? You return after five years away at sea with a man that was around just as much as he was before you left. Now, you don't show up the same day everyone else does and are missing with the said man until the next day when you show up smelling like a Tavern."

"I don't smell like a Tavern..."

"You do. Quite terribly, might I add."

Arya sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I guess it does look quite bad. But there is nothing between Podrick and me."

"Isn't there?"

"No, Sansa, there is not."

"You told me about those couple of nights..."

"Yeah, well we both know I sometimes have no impulse control. But there was nothing behind that at all."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes Sansa, I'm sure." She sighed deeply again. "Look, I've never said it out loud, but I love Gendry. Not a single day at sea did I not think of him, as much as I tried. Podrick is family, but Gendry... I'm glad I did what I did, but I should have seen if he wanted to come with me. I was scared, however, and after he proposed to me-"

Sansa let out a short gasp. "He proposed to you? When?"

"Two seconds after the Dragon Queen legitimized him."

"And you said no."

"Yes, Sansa. I'm standing here before you today. I said no." She pressed her lips together tightly. "I was so terrified to talk to him after that. I figured he would hate me. I hated me."

From in front, Sandor took off running, and surprisingly Tyrion went after him.

"Can we talk about your love life? Mine's complicated enough," Arya said. "Tyrion's great with Sandor."

Sansa gave a slight smile. "He is, isn't he?"

"Are you going to be with child soon?"

"Arya!"

She shrugged. "It hurts like hell, giving birth. Mother never told us that. Hell, I've been stabbed and that is not half as painful."

Sansa rolled her eyes. "Tyrion and I can never be together, you know this. Why do you keep pushing it?"

"You know why. Besides, Marlena Baratheon could be the new Hand of the King and you and Lord Tyrion can go on your way back to Winterfell. She's conniving enough..."

"Oh Arya, stop. She's lovely. She is just looking out for her brother. What if the roles were reversed and this was happening to Bran, Jon or myself?"

She narrowed her eyebrows at her sister. "Bran? Can Bran even have sex?"

Sansa scoffed and pushed Arya a bit. "Not the point, Arya."

"Then you're right, as usual. I'd probably murder the person, actually."

"See? Then you can handle a couple of obtrusive words from Marlena Baratheon."

Tyrion then emerged from around the corner, panting. "The child has so much energy that I have never had in my whole life."

Arya grinned as Sandor ran out somehow from the other side and jumped on her. Her reflexes had not been dimmed, and she caught him quickly.

"Are you having fun?"

He nodded.

"Ser Brieanne asked me if you would like to spar with her shortly? Does that sound fun?"

"You need a bath first," Sansa demanded to her. "Dinner is in two hours."

"I don't smell that bad."

Sandor made a sound of disagreement, causing Arya to glare at him. "I'm sorry, who's side are you on?"

"Mine, obviously," Sansa said. "Go on. Tyrion and I will bring him to Brieanne. I'm sure Podrick is there too. We'll get him cleaned up for dinner as well."

Arya set Sandor down and kissed his forehead. "Remember what I taught you, okay? We haven't spared in a bit, but Ser Brieanne is a great teacher. Listen to her. She's the one who actually taught Podrick."

"Really?"

She nodded. "Thank you, Sansa. You've been a big help watching Sandor."

Sansa smiled as Sandor resumed his normal spot behind her dress. "It has truly been my pleasure. As I said, I'm grooming him to be my heir. He would be a mighty fine king."

Arya rolled her eyes, not wanting to think about that now. She only hoped Sansa was joking. She nodded slightly to Tyrion and started to make her way into the castle.

Rounding the corner to her chambers, she distractedly ran into someone large and sturdy with a vest of black leather and a yellow undershirt. She swore in her head, backing up slowly.

"Sorry," she muttered. Then, she made the mistake to look up at him. There he was, Gendry Baratheon. Somehow, he had grown more handsome in the years she had been away, and that made her heart begin to race. "Hi," she said, gazing into those blue eyes that reminded her of the sea.

"Hello," he replied, a mixture of expressions on his face before it turned to stone. He bowed his head slightly. "Princess Arya," he addressed before continuing away from her as if she was a mere acquaintance.

As she watched him leave, she pressed her lips together tightly, reminding herself that she deserved his cold behavior. Despite that, her heart began to ache painfully as she took a deep breath, trying to channel her emotions.


	10. Chapter 10

Dinner had been awkward, at least for Arya. Sansa demanded that she sit at the head table next to Meera Reed, Sandor on the opposite end next to Sansa. She had decided that her sister had officially taken capture of her child, and she probably was not going to get him back.

Meera Reed, Arya decided, was the best conversation partner Arya could have asked for. She said nothing of men and talked with Arya on battle strategy the whole time, Bran sometimes adding his two sense about what would work and what would not.

But other than that, Arya was highly uncomfortable. Her sister had done her hair in some simple northern braids, but it still felt like too much for Arya. From another table, Marlena Baratheon kept whispering to her brother, glancing over at her while Gendry did not even raise his head. He was polite to the other lords and ladies, yet did not even glance in her direction.

After the meal was done, Gendry excused himself from his table, muttering something to Marlena, who seemed to protest slightly, before walking out.

"Excuse me," Arya said to Meera.

Meera nodded and Arya walked over to her son and crouched down next to him. "Hey, I'm going to step out for some air. Go either with Aunt Sansa or go find Podrick when you want to leave. I'll be up to tuck you into bed, okay?"

He nodded, and she planted a quick kiss on his forehead before going to find Gendry.

After getting outside of the castle, she knew the exact place that he would be. Getting closer to the Smithy, Arya could hear the sounds of metal on metal.

She sighed deeply, trying to muster up the courage before walking in, leaning against the door frame as she so often did.

There were a couple of men in there as well, but not many. Gendry sat on the bench, carving a beautiful direwolf pommel. He didn't notice her, which suited her fine. She loved watching him carve.

He had shed his leather vest as well and now stood there in only his yellow undershirt, the ties undone. She tried not to think to herself about how delectable he looked, but it wasn't that easy.

"Don't you have something better to do?" he said, still not looking in her direction. The familiar phrase made her smile slightly.

"I didn't think you saw me."

"You're not as sneaky as you think," he muttered. Gendry knew where she was at all times if she was in the same vicinity. His heart would always give a little tug in the direction she was in. It was an Arya detector, he used to think.

"I doubt that."

"Well, you're definitely more conniving than you think," he snapped, walking over to the forge and placing the pommel down.

Arya blinked, surprised at his words before the anger started to pool up in her. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I think you heard me."

"And I think that you should be a little more careful with your words right now."

"What are you going to do, kill me?"

"There are things worse than death."

He turned sharply and looked at her for the first time, his eyes of the sea dark with remnants of a storm. "Yeah, there is."

"Like what, Gendry? Go on? Say what you want to say."

Gendry looked at the other men in the forge who were staring at them. He waved his hand at them and they put down what they were working on and walked out.

"Oh, look at you with all the power..."

"Shut up, Arya!"

She did. She didn't know if it was his raw, commanding voice or that he used her name. He had only used it three times to her in her entire life. It was usually Arry or m'lady. The first time he said it was in panic when she went after the hound. The second was the night that they had made love before the White Walkers. Now? It frightened her but sent a thrill down her spine at the same time.

He sighed and wiped the sweat off of his forehead, leaning on one of the posts. "I cannot believe you."

Arya was about to make a comment but stopped herself before she did. She swallowed hard and sat down on the bench.

"How could you not have told me of Sandor, huh?"

For that, she had no answer. She hung her head low, pressing her lips tightly together. "I'm sorry."

"You should be," he snapped. "You should have told me the second you knew."

"I didn't know when I left," she said dismally, hoping that would excuse her behavior slightly.

"Did you not get raven's where you were?"

"Kind of..."

"Kind of?"

"Well, not for the last year. We were too far."

"But when you knew about him, you had ravens."

It wasn't a question, Arya knew that. She decided not to say anything.

Gendry let out a cruel laughed and turned so he wasn't looking at her. "You're unbelievable."

"Gendry..."

"Don't. Just don't." He sighed and leaned against the post again, his hands laced behind his head. "Because of you, I missed out on so much with Sandor. I missed out on your pregnancy, his birth, his first word and steps, everything. And fucking Podrick Payne got to witness it all."

"Don't bring Podrick into this."

"Why the hell not? He's not being brought into this, he is in this! He got to raise my damn child and lay with my woman!"

"What?!"

"Don't deny it," he warned. "I'm not as stupid as you think I am. I see the way he looks at you. He looks at you as if he knows what is underneath your armor."

Arya was at a loss for words and just stood there with her mouth open. "Gendry, I-"

"Am I wrong? Am I wrong?!"

"Mostly?"

"Mostly. What kind of answer is mostly? Mostly. Tell me, Arya, what mostly means, cause I'm dying to know."

Arya pressed her lips together tightly. "Podrick and I are nothing," she said as her truth.

"But you slept with him." A couple of seconds passed before Gendry took her silence as a yes. He turned to the wall and bashed his hand through it. "Fuck!" he yelled, shaking it.

She stood up and tried to have a look at it before he grabbed her arms and pushed her against the wall.

"You do not belong to Podrick fucking Payne," he said possessively, looking into her eyes.

"No, I don't," she said, trying to steady her breaths. "But I don't belong to you either."

"No, you don't. But you are mine."

Then he grabbed the back of her head and crashed his lips against hers. Arya couldn't help but sigh in content against his lips, allowing him to take complete control. Gendry felt like home.

The kisses grew more hot and heavy as he hoisted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. His lips trailed from her lips to her jaw to her neck and collarbone.

"Gendry..." she moaned.

"Arya..."

Her hands snuck under his shirt as she pulled it off of him, throwing it aside by the forge. She moved her hands from his neck to the arms she loved so much.

Gendry felt alive. Although anger was coursing through his veins, Gendry had not felt so alive in five years. Having her in his arms gave him purpose. He decided then that he was never letting her or Sandor go.

Thinking of his son brought things back to attention, gave the anger a focus that was no longer masked by passion. He pulled away and lightly pushed her off of him, her giving him a disappointed pout. "I can't right now," he grumbled angrily before grabbing his shirt and storming out of the Smithy, leaving Arya standing there, panting and confused on what the hell just happened.


	11. Chapter 11

Arya pulled back the bow and sent an arrow flying at the target, hitting a perfect bullseye.

"Yeah, I wouldn't say just decent," Meera Reed said before launching one herself at the other target. Another bullseye.

"You're not too bad yourself," Arya complimented before releasing another one.

"You get good once you're constantly trying to save your ass."

"For sure."

Arya had grown very fond of her future sister-in-law. Meera was tough and resourceful. She loved archery and even was not bad with a sword. Arya had never really heard much about her before, so she assumed the worst but received the best.

"Meera, can I ask you a personal question?" she asked, letting another arrow go.

"Of course."

"Why marry Bran if you know he barely feels any emotions? What are you getting out of it?"

Meera was quiet for a moment, releasing another arrow and thinking about her next words. "It sounds foolish, but although he doesn't quite love me, I love him. I spent three years without him, and it was terrible." She wiped some sweat off of her brow and put her bow down next to her. "He doesn't need me anymore, but I need him. Brandon Stark has faded, but he's still there, even if he doesn't realize it."

"Do you even want to be queen?"

Meera scoffed and rolled up her sleeves. "No, I really don't. Honestly, it sounds awful to me. I have been terribly bored here. All the tea and pastries, the endless talk about politics, I hate it."

Arya let go of another arrow, this one landing perfectly next to all of them around the center. "So giving up a part of yourself is worth it to you?"

"Just because I'm not doing what I want to be doing doesn't mean I'm giving up myself," she said. "I adjusted. It took time, but I'm comfortable with my life, and I have Bran back."

The whole situation seemed to reflect her own. Meera had never wanted any of this, now she was to be queen in a month.

"Where is your son?"

Arya shrugged. "I don't know, actually. My sister has kidnapped him at this point. Before I know it, he will start calling her mom."

"Ha! I doubt it. How are things going with Lord Baratheon?"

The Stark girl's eyes went wide. "Um..."

"Forgive me, Bran tells me too much sometimes. I feel as if I'm the only one who can get a straight answer out of him."

"That's one of us." Arya sighed and walked over to the target and started plucking her arrows from it, Meera doing the same with her board. "He's so mad at me. He hasn't talked to me in days."

"And?"

"And... I don't know. I expected this to be easier. I don't know how many times I can say that I'm sorry. I don't regret what I did, just maybe my approach was a bit off."

"Have you told Sandor yet?"

She shook her head. "No. I don't know how. See, this is the kind of thing I would like to speak to Gendry about, but he just keeps avoiding me."

"Men are tricky creatures," she said. "Persistence works, however."

"I sure hope so."

* * *

The sword was finally finished, and Gendry had never been more proud of a weapon in his life. It was slightly larger than Needle, for Gendry wanted to give Sandor something to grow in to. The blade was skinny and light, perfectly balanced. On the end was a grip wrapped in leather dyed yellow, the pommel a black direwolf with yellow eyes.

"Is that mine?" a voice behind him said, making him jump.

Gendry turned around to see Sandor and grinned. He didn't know how he was stupid enough to not notice it before, but his son looked exactly like himself when he was younger. His anger and confusion must have clouded his judgment. He always did jump to conclusions.

"It is. Want to try it out?"

Sandor nodded eagerly, and Gendry gave it to him. Sandor cooed as he looked at the direwolf. "Cause I'm a Stark," he said, admiring the craftsmanship.

"Yup."

"And the yellow and black? Those are Baratheon colors."

Gendry raised his eyebrow and smiled slightly. "Yeah."

"I love it," Sandor said, raising it up, pointing it at him. "It's heavy."

"It has a bit more weight than your mother's, yes, but you will tower over her in a couple of years. I'll make you a new one when you're fully grown, for this one will be too small for you then."

"Thank you," he said, swinging it a little bit.

"Are you going to name it? Every great sword has a name."

Sandor pursed his lips and stared at it. "Can I think on it?"

Gendry nodded and grabbed it from him, placing it in a box. "Of course."

"Lord Baratheon?"

"Yes?"

"Are you my father?"

Gendry stopped moving. He was in complete shock that the child asked him that.

"What?"

"Well, my mother always said I looked just like my dad and that he was strong and kind. That's you. Plus, yellow and black are Baratheon colors, so am I Baratheon?"

Gendry set the box down on the forge and crouched next to Sandor. "You're really smart, you know that?"

Sandor nodded. "Yeah, I know." Smart, yes. Humble, no. That was something he picked up from the rest of the Starks. "So are you?"

"I don't think your mother would like me talking to you about this."

"I hear the whispers too. Mother and Aunt Sansa are not very quiet people."

Gendry laughed before he brushed a piece of hair out of his son's eye. Looking at him was just surreal to Gendry. As much as he wanted to respect Arya's wishes, she had not thought of his at all the past five years. Plus, Gendry had grown up not knowing who his father was. He didn't want that for his son. Robert Baratheon was a dead beat dad, Gendry would not be.

"Yes, Sandor. I am."

Without even a second of passing, Sandor threw his arms around Gendry's neck, placing his head in his shoulder.

Gendry had never been so happy in his life.

* * *

Arya hated afternoon tea time. She was terribly bored, but she did it to appease her sister. It made her happy that Meera hated it just as much as she did. She just didn't let it show on her face.

Sansa and Marlena were talking about Robin Arryn's arrival that was supposed to be happening sometime this week.

"I hear he's looking for a Lady of his castle. Rumor has it that now that Princess Arya is back, he will be seeking her hand," Marlena said.

Arya made a gagging noise, leaning lazily back in her chair. "Ew. Never. Wasn't he interested in Sansa?"

"I made it clear that I would never marry him," Sansa stated, "so I guess he's moving on to you."

"Seven hells..."

Sandor came running in and dropped a large sword box in front of her. "Look, Mommy, he made it! He made it!"

She narrowed her eyebrow at her child and opened the lid to see the beautiful sword that Gendry must have been working on. What shocked her the most wasn't the exquisite direwolf that he finished to perfection, but the Baratheon colors. Subtle, she thought. Gendry sure knew how to leave a message.

"Father said that it's heavier than Needle, but I need a sword to grow in to."

Arya sat there dumbfounded. "I'm sorry, Father?"

"Yes, Lord Baratheon. He told me."

There was an awkward silence around the room. Sansa looked directly at her sister while Marlena looked at the floor, Meera taking a large sip of her tea and avoiding eye contact.

"Sansa, can you take care of Sandor?"

Sansa nodded as Arya stood up and patted her son's head before retreating out the door.

"Try not to kill him?" Sansa called after her sister.

"No promises!"


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: I started off this story after the end of GOT because I felt that our beloved character's stories were not finished, therefore I had to get it out of my head. Thank you to all of my amazing readers, you truly have inspired me to keep writing. I love reading each and every review. They mean so much to me. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

* * *

Gendry heard a knock at his chamber door and got up to answer it. He was tired from his work at the forge and wanted a quick nap before dinner started, but now he knew that wasn't going to happen. He opened it slowly before Arya Stark pushed herself in, walking right past him and into the room.

"Have you lost your damn mind?!" she yelled at him.

He closed the door and rolled his eyes. "You know, knocking on one's door doesn't mean you can just come in. It's not polite."

"Do you know what's not polite? Telling my son that you're his father without discussing it with me first!"

Gendry crossed his arms in front of his chest. He wasn't backing down from this one. "What the hell was I supposed to do, Princess Stark? He asked me the question so I answered him. So, technically, I never told him, I just confirmed his own suspicions."

She shook her head, eyes narrowing sharply. "I can't believe you."

"You can't believe me? Did you want me to lie to him?"

"No, but you could have stalled!"

"And why would I do that?"

"So we could talk about it, Gendry!"

"What is there to talk about!? Were we supposed to sit him down and have a chat? Yeah, no."

"I was planning-"

"I don't care what you were planning!" he yelled. "You left me, M'lady, in case you forgot. You took away all of the choices that we were supposed to have chats about for his first five years. So, you don't get to be angry with me about this."

"I sure as hell do! I'm his mother!"

"And I'm his father!" Gendry sighed deeply, trying to regain his temper. "Look, I wasn't going to say anything. He asked me. I'm not lying to my kid." He walked over to the balcony and leaned against the rail. After a few minutes passed, Arya came up beside him.

"Look, I know you're mad, but think about it from my point of view, hm?" he asked, avoiding her eyes. "I grew up, over there," he said, pointing to a somewhere in Flea Bottom. "I barely knew my mother, and I didn't know my father. I was some lowly bastard. Now, I have a son who doesn't bare my name and didn't know that I was his father, and I can't help but feel like my father, even though it wasn't my fault."

Arya pursed her lips, trying not to say anything in retaliation.

"So, I've decided I'm going to be there for my child. When this wedding crap is done, either you will come to Storm's End or I'll go back to Winterfell with you. I'm not leaving him."

"You can't just give up Storm's End."

"I can. I'm a Lord, I can do that now. I'll give it to Marlena, or my advisor Jeron if she wants to stay with me. That's final. I will be a part of raising my son."

After a couple of seconds, she sighed. "Okay."

"And one more thing, I'm going to ask Bran to legitimize him."

She scrunched up her face. "He's already legitimized."

"No, you gave him the Stark name. He's a Baratheon."

"But-"

"No buts. I'm making another decision. Now, if you please, I would like to take a nap. I'll see you at dinner."

"Gendry, we need to talk about this..."

"No, we don't," he said as he lightly began to push her out. "I told you, this is final."

"This is bull shit. Are you seriously pushing me right now?"

"Yes, leave."

With a huff, she sat down as she was just a few feet away from the door. That would make it harder for him to move her.

He sighed in annoyance. "I should have stuck with my first impression of you."

"Which is?"

"You're the most annoying creature!"

"Rude!"

He gave her a sarcastic smile before bending over and picking her up off the ground.

"Gendry!"

"I told you, I want my damn nap!" He placed her outside of the door and did a gallant bow. "Princess Stark, good day," he said before slamming the door in her face and putting the lock on it.

There was a silence and Gendry sighed in relief, putting his head against the door.

"I AM ARYA STARK OF WINTERFELL, NIGHTKING SLAYER, PRINCESS OF THE FREAKING SIX KINGDOMS AND PRINCESS OF THE DAMN NORTH! YOU WILL OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW GENDRY OR I SWEAR!"

Gendry groaned and opened the door slightly. "You really just pulled a Daenerys Targaryen, you realize that, right?"

"I don't care!"

He shrugged and gave her a short smile. "Good day, Arya Stark of Winterfell, Nightking Slayer, Princess of the Six Kingdoms and the North. It's been a pleasure." He then slammed the door again and locked it once more.

"GENDRY WATERS, OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR!"

"It's Baratheon now!"

"Sure it's not Rivers?!"

Gendry rolled his eyes and went over to his bed, laughing quietly to himself as she just kept yelling at him through the door.

* * *

At dinner, Sandor fell asleep at the table so Arya scooped him up and carried him up to his room. As she was tucking him into bed, his little eyes flutered open.

"Mother?"

"Yeah, little guy?"

"Are you mad at me?"

Arya sighed and crawled into bed with him, placing her arm around his shoulders. "No, I'm not mad at you."

"Are you mad at Lord Baratheon?"

"I'm usually mad at Lord Baratheon."

"Why?"

"Because he is stubborn and irritating." She brushed a piece of hair out of his eyes. "But he's a great man."

"How come he didn't come with us on the voyage?"

She sighed, the guilt in her gut growing. "Well, I never asked him."

"How come?"

"Well, the last time I saw him, he asked me to marry him and become a lady. That was just near the end of the war, and I didn't know if I could do that, so I left to go take care of unfinished business that would get me killed." She smiled slightly. "Your namesake, Sandor Clegane, is the reason I survived, the reason you survived. Therefore, he is just about my favorite person." She leaned back against the head post and pressed her lips tightly together. "I wish he could have met you, know that it was because of him that you're here today."

Sandor smiled up at her. "I wish I would have met him too."

She kissed his forehead and fixed the pillow behind his head. "You know, Lord Baratheon wants you to take his name."

"What?"

"You would no longer be Sandor Stark, but Lord Sandor Baratheon. Is that what you want?"

He looked down at his lap and shrugged. "I don't know. Would you be Princess Baratheon then?"

Arya snorted and tried not to roll her eyes. "No. I'd still be a Stark trying to get rid of the damn Princess title. The only way I'd be a Baratheon is if I married your father."

"Then why don't you?"

"It's not that simple, little one. Gendry and I..."

"Do you love him?"

She nodded sadly. "Yeah, I do."

"Does he love you?"

"I don't know. He's very angry with me because I never told him about you."

"Why didn't you?"

She sighed deeply, meeting those eyes that she knew she couldn't lie to. "I was scared. I was scared he would be upset with me, although I don't know if that could get much worse right now. I was scared that he moved on and created a different life for himself in Storm's End. I thought my leaving would be beneficial for him, and I thought that he might give everything up that he just acquired if he found out about you. That was not fair to you, and I'm sorry."

Sandor shrugged with a face of indifference. "It's alright. I had you. And Pod. Is my father going to go back to Storm's End after this?"

"He told me that he is going wherever we go."

"I want to go back to Winterfell. I don't want to leave Aunt Sansa. She's very lonely."

She looked at her son with such admiration. He was the best of the Starks and the Baratheon's and it amazed her. "I don't want to leave Aunt Sansa either, but that means your father would have to give up his castle. It's complicated, little guy. But I do respect your opinion, alright? At the end of the wedding, you'll tell me what you want to do?"

He nodded.

"Good," she said, getting off of the bed. "Sleep well, my love." She leaned over and kissed his head one more time before pulling the blanket over his shoulders.

Yes, complicated was becoming her new favorite word, she thought as she blew out the candle on the bureau.


	13. Chapter 13

Sansa Stark had never seen her sister so drunk in her life.

Earlier that day, Robin Arryn and a few other Lords and Ladies from Westeros arrived and more were to be expected within the week. When they had greeted Lord Arryn, he was especially cold to Sansa which made her grin, knowing that her message had passed. However, when he moved on to her sister, he recited a poem of some sort about her beauty and strength, kissing her hand and bowing gallantly to her.

Arya was trying to not make a face of utter disgust but the corner of her mouth kept twitching. Politics would never be in her future, Sansa decided.

When Lord Arryn had come across Sandor, he looked slightly disturbed, however, decided that the Princess of Westeros was a greater prize than any Lady who was a maid.

Sansa noticed the look of pure hatred in Lord Baratheon's eyes when he looked at him, his fists balled up tightly together, his face slightly red. Ours is the fury indeed. He was cold when Lord Arryn came across him and his sister. Although Arya doubted his feelings for her, Sansa knew that Lord Baratheon was still madly in love with her. He had never stopped.

The rest of the day consisted of Lord Arryn following Arya around wherever he could. Arya couldn't even use Sandor as an excuse, for he went riding with his father for the day. Arya wanted to come to but decided that the two of them needed some time together.

Eventually, she had lost where her sister was for a couple of hours. She didn't show up to tea time with all the new ladies that had arrived within the week, so when that was finished, she went to go find her. Giving up, she decided to go find Tyrion, for she hadn't seen him much at all that day either.

When she reached his chambers, she heard laughing, a female's laugh. At first, she was upset and was about to turn around before she saw red and pounded on the door. Although she knew she couldn't be with Tyrion, she had never taken anyone else to bed. She never said anything to him, but she assumed it was a mutual agreement.

When the door opened, she was shocked to see Arya there with Podrick and Tyrion. They were at the table in the corner with lots of Dornish wine on top.

"Oh no," she said. "What is this?"

"We are hiding," Arya said, giggling at the end.

This disturbed Sansa. Her sister did not giggle, not even as a child. "I can see that. How many drinks have you had?"

Arya looked at Podrick who just shrugged.

Tyrion reached over and poured another glass, handing it over to Sansa. "Join us, my queen."

"No thank you, I wish to be in my right mind as we get to know more of the guests."

"We are the guests," Arya slurred. "We deserve wine and lots of it. Sansa, I know you want to... Don't be such a stick in the mud!"

Sansa rolled her eyes. "Try to sober up before dinner, please. All three of you," she said before shutting the door behind her.

When Lord Baratheon arrived with her nephew an hour later, she let him know of the events that had been taking place with his son's mother, Ser Podrick, and Lord Lannister that day. Lord Baratheon found it slightly amusing, but understood her underlying message and went to go help Sandor get ready for dinner.

Her request of the three was not abided by, for the three of them were plastered at dinner. Arya sat at the head table next to Tyrion, the two of them giggling about something like fools. Ser Podrick sat with Ser Brieanne, and he was trying to tell her a story but was failing miserably.

She met Lord Baratheon's eyes, who just shrugged in defeat. Sansa just wanted to start banging her head on the table before her.

When Lord Arryn approached the table, he requested to take her sister on a walk through the garden. Arya laughed in his face and shook her finger at him before bringing her cup to her lips again. He looked confused and awkwardly turned back to his own table.

As time progressed, the three got much worse, if that was even possible. Sansa noticed her nephew falling asleep at the table, so she recruited Lady Marlena to take him back to his chambers.

Her sister was not composing coherant words at this point, and nobody could understand her except for Tyrion, who was not much better himself. Sansa stood up from the table and walked over to Lord Baratheon's.

"Lord Baratheon, I must ask you a favor."

"Is it Arya?" he said right away. He had been watching her all night, and his amusment turned to concern about an hour ago. She assumed that is why he did not leave with his sister and son before.

She nodded. "Yes. Do you mind?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. The only problem will be getting her to listen to me."

"Better you than I."

He scoffed at that. "I'm sure."

He then got up from the table and walked over to Arya who lit up when she saw him.

"Gendry!" she exclaimed in glee. "Join us."

Tyrion was already pouring a glass for the Lord who then dismissed it.

"Come on, it's time for bed," he said gently.

She pouted like a child. "But I don't wanna."

"Please, Arry?"

She smiled up at him, giving him her hand to help her up. "Okay."

Sansa rolled her eyes at the exchange. Leave it to her sister not to listen to anyone else but the former blacksmith.

Gendry said his goodnights to the table before linking his arm through Arya's and guiding her out of the dining room.

Sansa sighed, looking over at Podrick who was sleeping at the table. Two down, one to go, she thought as she made her way back to Tyrion.

* * *

"Wait, wait, wait," Arya demanded halfway to her chambers. "I gotta sit. World is spinning." She let go of Gendry's arm and sat against the castle wall, sighing deeply. "How was your Sandor day?" she slurred.

"It was amazing," he admitted. "He's brilliant."

"He is, he is. I love him so much. Does Sansa have him?"

"Marlena took him to bed a bit ago."

"Good, good. I don't think she likes me."

Gendry shook his head and sat next to her. "No, she adores you. She looks up to you."

"No, she doesn't."

"She does."

Arya sighed again and leaned against his shoulder. "I don't think so."

He smirked, glad that her drunken state had taken away the constrictions of their anger. "Why did you drink so much with Lord Tyrion today?"

"I didn't mean to. I found him grabbing wine as I was hiding from Robin Arryn. I don't like him."

"I don't like him either."

"So I went to his chamber's with him and Podrick was there, and the next thing I knew, I was drunk!"

"You think?"

"Mmhm. Gendry, I want to lay down."

He lightly pushed her off of him and stood up, giving her his hand to help him up.

"Don't wanna walk..."

He rolled his eyes and bent over to scoop her up in his arms. She snaked her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder, sighing in content.

"You smell so good."

He laughed and began walking toward her chambers. "Do I?"

"Mmhm, like home."

"Winterfell?"

"No, home."

She was quiet for the rest of the way up to her chambers, and Gendry had assumed she had fallen asleep. He set her down on her bed, and she made sounds in protest. He took her boots off and her leather vest and belt, setting her weapons down on the bureau.

He then started to take out her hair, knowing that she liked it down when she slept.

"That feels good," she slurred.

He laughed as his hands worked at the final braid. He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before turning to leave.

She grabbed his arm. "Don't leave me."

"Arry..."

"Please."

He met her grey eyes, looking at him with such adoration. He couldn't say no. "Okay." He pulled the covers over her and sat on top.

She made a sound of protest and tried pulling the covers over him, her drunken state and his size making it nearly impossible. "Under," she commanded.

"What would your sister say?" he joked.

"I don't care," she said, pulling at the covers more.

Finally, he gave up and slid under them with her, her arms wrapping around his torso.

"You're wearing too many clothes," she muttered.

He laughed and smoothed his hand over her hair. "Go to sleep, m'lady."

She shook her head, nuzzling it into his neck again. "Smell so good."

"You do too."

"Like home?"

"Like home."

"Gendry?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

He sighed deeply. "I know. I am too, for jumping the gun with the proposal."

"That was pretty stupid."

He laughed, smirking a bit. "I know."

A few minutes passed before she sighed into his neck. "I love you," she admitted.

Those words shocked him. She had never said those words to him before, now here she was, drunk with truths spilling over, saying the only thing that he ever wanted to hear.

"I love you too."

She made a sound of contentment before her breathing became steady, indicating that she had fallen asleep. Slowly, he got up, covering her up with the blankets on the side where he had been. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. He knew she wouldn't remember a thing in the morning, but knowing that she still felt the same for him was enough for Gendry to have hope for their future.


	14. Chapter 14

The next day, the rest of the lords and ladies for the wedding had arrived and everyone was socializing in the garden. Well, everyone other than Podrick, Tyrion, and Arya.

The three of them sat at the table where the ladies and Sandor usually took their afternoon tea. Podrick's head was on the table, his hands covering his ears. Tyrion claimed that the only way out of a hangover this bad is more alcohol, so he sat there, drinking more Dornish wine with a scowl on his face. Arya was nursing a cup of tea, swearing under her breath whenever one of the guests walked by and spoke loud enough to send her head ringing.

Sandor then emerged from arch and quietly crawled up on his mother's lap, knowing the condition the three of them were in. Arya put the tea cup down and burried her face in his hair.

The four of them were like that for awhile, not a single one of them speaking. It would have been a very peaceful morning with birds chirping and laughter around the castle, but the circumstances made it miserable.

Sansa and Lady Marlena then approached from around the corner.

"Well, aren't you a miserable lot," Sansa said smirking at their discomfort. "Perhaps you should have listened to me?"

Arya groaned, pulling Sandor tighter to her. "Shut up, Sansa."

"Yes, my queen. We should have listened to your devine words of wisdom," Tyrion said sarcastically as he took another sip.

Sansa shot him a look which made him look down at the table, knowing that she was probobably quite cross with him.

"Did I eat last night?" Arya asked. "I don't remember eating."

"Nor I," Podrick muttered.

"We ate," Tyrion confirmed.

"Apparently not enough," Sansa said. "Did you all hear of the tourney that will start in three days time?"

The three shook their heads.

"Lord Tyrion, you were actually the one to suggest it last night. The King thought it was a brilliant idea to pass time."

"I am known for my brilliant ideas," Tyrion muttered before taking a sip of his wine.

Sansa rolled her eyes and grabbed the cup from him.

"Hey!"

"No more. We are having no repeats of last night."

"Will I be participating in the tourney, seeing as I'm the only Stark who can?" Arya asked.

"No, you are the princess."

"Sansa..."

"No. If anything happens to me, you are my current heir. If anything happens to Bran, you would also take over for a short period of time until another king is chosen."

"Since when?"

"Since you returned, congratulations. Also, that would not be fair to the other lords competing. You would win easily."

That made Arya smirk. "Very true. But please say I don't have to sit there and watch all of these blubbering idiots."

"You do."

"Sansa..."

"Arya, you're an adult, not a child. Act like one. Your son has more manners than you."

Arya shrugged, knowing that was probably correct, and Sandor beamed at his aunt.

"Ser Podrick, I trust you will be participating?"

Podrick nodded, his face still down on the table. "Yes, my queen," he muttered.

Sansa rolled her eyes and turned around, Lady Baratheon following behind.

"Stupid. When did I become the heir?" Arya asked Tyrion.

"You and Sandor are the remaining Starks," he said. "When King Brann marries Meera, then she will take over for him if something happens until a new king is chosen. But as of now, you would be the Queen of the Six Kingdoms."

"And what about the North?"

"Well, Sansa is only half joking when she talks of grooming your son to be her heir."

"Me, King?" Sandor asked.

Tyrion nodded.

"Hmm."

"Lord Tyrion, why don't you just find another Hand of the King for Bran and return to Winterfell with my sister, produce a couple of heirs the normal way, hm?"

Tyrion blushed slightly but was used to the Stark's bluntness. "Well, the world isn't that easy, Princess Stark."

Arya turned to Podrick and tugged on a piece of his hair.

"Stop it," he grumbled.

"Come on, get up. If you're going to be in the tourney, we have to get you practicing."

"I don't wanna..."

"And I don't want to be the future queen someday or have my son have the burden of being king with a target on his back. So, get up!"

* * *

Gendry was shooting arrows in the training grounds, barely making the target. He was confident he had a chance at the upcoming tourney, but the archery portion was not something that he was looking forward to at all.

When he shot another one and hit a tree instead, he heard a sound of familiar laughter behind him.

"You know, you're supposed to be aiming for the target, not trees, correct?" Arya asked jokingly.

Gendry turned and looked at her, the sight of her still making his heart race every time. "No, I didn't. Thank you, M'lady, I'll take that into account."

"No problem," she said approaching him.

"Where is Sandor?" he asked before releasing another arrow, this one hitting the target, but far off from the center.

"He's with Podrick and Ser Brieanne. They usually train him around this time, but part of it is getting the two of them ready for the tourney."

"Ser Brieanne is participating?"

She nodded.

"Well damn, I'm screwed."

Arya grinned at that, her eyes raking over his body while his attention was on the target. "If you're this bad at archery, possibly so."

He laughed and sent another arrow flying, missing the target. "Is he practicing with his sword?"

"Yes. He loves it."

"Good. Has he named it yet?"

"Not quite. He's calling it Needle Two for the time being."

He smirked at that and tried sending another arrow.

"Here, you're going at this all wrong." She grabbed the bow out of his hand and steadily lined it up, pulling back and hitting the bullseye.

"Show off. Why aren't you in the tournament?"

She shrugged and handed him back the bow. "Apparently, my life is too important, seeing as I am next in line for two thrones if my siblings do not marry or produce children."

"Ah, I see."

He tried setting up the bow again but Arya made a sound of disagreement. "Put your feet closer together, under your shoulders. And stop gripping the bow like your hammer. Archery is not about strength, but precision."

Gendry shifted and took her notes into account.

She walked closer to him, adjusting his fingers so they were parallel and not diagonal. "Keep them straight," she commanded. She walked around to the back of him, her fingers lightly pressing his back. "Pull from here, not your arm, and pull back straight."

He followed her directions, barely able to focus while she was so close to him, the warmth from her fingertips spreading throughout his body.

"Hold your stance all the way, now shoot," she said quietly.

He released the arrow, watching in amazement as it hit just outside of the red bullseye. He relaxed his stance and turned around to face her, breathless. "Thank you."

She smirked as she looked up into his eyes. "You're welcome." She cleared her throat and looked down, wiping her hands on her tunic. "So, I talked to Sandor about after the wedding the other night."

"And?"

"I told him that it is up to him where we go. He deserves that much."

He nodded in agreement.

"I also am leaving it up to him about changing his last name."

"Arry..."

"Don't. I understand that you are angry with me, but this would be changing what he has known his whole life. If he wants to remain a Stark by name, so be it. If he wants to change it to Baratheon, that's fine with me."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

She nodded and pressed her lips together tightly. "He's still adjusting, no matter how much he hides it. He's like my sister in that way. Give him time."

"Alright."

She took a deep breath and nodded her head slightly. "M'lord," she said with a slight smile before walking toward the castle.

He rolled his eyes, grinning from ear to ear as he watched her walk away.


	15. Chapter 15

The tourney would be set over a two-week span, the final victor being declared just two days before the wedding. It would begin with the horse racing contest, then the axe-throwing, archery, and melee competitions, then finally the jousting.

Arya learned she had a designated spot to watch all of this, as usual. Luckily, it was right in between her son and Meera Reed, someone that was just as upset as not to be participating as she. Sansa sat on the other side of Sandor with Marlena Baratheon at her side. Arya tried not to be suspicious of their relationship, but she couldn't help the gnawing feeling in her gut. She didn't know if Marlena was using Sansa, or Sansa was using Marlena.

"Do you think Pod is going to win?" Sandor asked her as the horses took off.

"No."

"Father."

"No. They both can ride a horse, but fast and controlled? No."

The horses came around the track, all pretty close to each other, giving off a gush of wind at the spectators.

"This would have been an easy win," Arya muttered to herself.

"I agree," Meera said beside her, giving her a smile. "You know, I was thinking that I could win this tourney by myself if I was to participate, that is. My only true competition would be you."

"Agreed. Your archery skills are no more and no less than my own."

"My horse is faster, however. I would win this silly race."

"And I would knock you down in the melee and axe-throwing competitions."

"I disagree."

Arya laughed, generally amused with the conversation. "You know what? Maybe we'll just have to have a mini tourney of our own."

"The battle of the royals who don't want to be royals."

Arya held up her wine glass. "Cheers to that."

Meera clinked her own against hers and they both to a large sip. "So, who are you rooting for?"

"I don't know," she said as she shrugged. "I'm just here to be here, I guess."

As the horses rounded the final lap, most of the spectators stood up, leaning over in anticipation. When they crossed the finish line, it was clear to see that Ser Brienne of Tarth, Lord Commander of the King's Guard had won.

Sandor began to clap rapidly as Brieanne slid off her horse and bowed to Bran and Meera, then to Sansa after she was officially announced.

"Part one, done," Arya said, standing up. She extended her hand to her son. "Come on, little guy. It's time for your reading lesson."

Sandor linked his finger's through hers and hopped down from his chair, the two beginning to walk to the end of the platform. "Mommy, do you think I'll ever win a tourney?"

"Easily," she said. "I didn't start training to use a sword until I was nine. One day, you'll be far better than me."

"What about the other parts?"

"Well, you already know how to ride a horse. In a couple of years, I'll take you real riding. You're already working on your archery, and I'm sure Ser Brienne will help you with jousting."

"And axe-throwing?"

"I can help with that one too eventually, but your father might be best for that."

"Princess Arya," someone said as reached the last step where the men and Ser Brienne were all located. She looked over to see Robin Arryn approaching her, and she tried not to make a face.

"Lord Arryn," she said politely, gripping Sandor's hand a bit tighter.

"Did you enjoy today's festivities?"

"Yes, I did," she said. She couldn't help but notice Gendry just a couple feet away, talking to one of the lords but his attention was on them.

"Although I did not win this one, you may count on me for the next," he said, his voice as cocky as ever.

Arya tried not to laugh. "Is that so?"

"It is. I happen to excel in axe-throwing."

"You won't be able to beat my father," Sandor said, puffing out his small chest a bit in a way that reminded her of the man himself.

"Sandor," she warned lowly.

"It's true. The hammer is his weapon of choice, so he's good with an axe."

Robin Arryn's smile twisted in an odd way. "Interesting," he said to Sandor in a condescending manner. "Princess Arya, I would like to ask for your favor."

She narrowed her eyebrows at him. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Your favor, a token from you. A handkerchief, or perhaps your favorite flower. Something that lets me know that you are rooting for me, to give me a little drive in the tourney."

Arya was at a loss for words. She knew that she had to be polite, but she didn't trust herself to speak.

"No thank you," Sandor said for her.

"What?" Lord Arryn said, baffled.

"She doesn't want to be rude, but she wants to say no."

"Sandor..." she warned, although she was enjoying seeing this side to her son.

"Besides, my mother is a warrior. She does not carry a handkerchief or wear flowers."

"Young Lord Stark..." he started.

"Good day, Lord Arryn," Sandor said with a slight bow of his head before he started tugging on his mother's hand, getting her to follow him.

"What was that?" she asked him.

Sandor smiled up at her. "Aunt Sansa told you that you have to be kind to him."

"And?"

"I don't. I'm the possible future King of the North, a Stark and a Baratheon. I outrank him, Aunt Sansa says."

Arya stared at her son in disbelief. She swore that he was easily the most intelligent child of his age that she had ever come across. She looked over to where Gendry was to see him leaning on the fence, pure amusement on his face. He gave her a nod before turning away to the other men.

"Have you talked to your father about Lord Arryn?" she asked him.

"A bit," he said with a shrug and continued to lead her into the castle.

* * *

"Sansa?" Arya asked as she sat in her sister's chambers. "Do you still have that direwolf pin of mine that mother had given us years ago?"

"Yes," she said as she took out her long red hair, her fingers ridding themselves of her braids. "It's in the jewelry box on the vanity. Why?"

She shrugged and made her way over to the mahogany box, opening it to find two similar, but different direwolf pins. Arya's pin had yellow eyes whereas Sansa's had blue. "No reason," she said, grabbing the pin and placing it in her pocket.

"I heard about Sandor and Lord Arryn," her sister said, sitting down on the bed.

"Yes, you have officially taught my son how to silence someone in just a couple of words."

Sansa grinned at that. "All I told him was that Lord Arryn was interested in marrying you."

"And how did he take that."

"He didn't. He said that would never happen because you're not meant for him. Then he started talking about his father, out of context of course."

Arya rolled her eyes and walked over toward the door. "Goodnight, Sansa."

"Goodnight, Arya."

As Arya shut the door, she smiled to herself. Maybe Sandor knew more than she did.

* * *

When Gendry woke up, he noticed a small parcel on his bureau that had not been there when he went to bed. He lightly tore off the packaging and smiled at the contents inside. It was a pin, a silver direwolf pin with yellow eyes.

He grabbed the note that was under it, reading the graceful print that was on the parchment.

_Don't mess up, m'lord._

Gendry grinned, recognizing the meaning behind the pin. No, Arya Stark did not give away handkerchiefs and flowers, but this was a favor, never the less.


	16. Chapter 16

"So, are we just going to keep going at this until one of us misses?" Meera asked her soon to be sister-in-law as she shot another arrow at the target, it landing in the center, just as every arrow between the two girls had done for the past hour.

"So, we're not ever leaving this place?" Podrick muttered to Sandor, causing him to giggle. The two were sitting on the ground, watching the girls face off in the first stage of their own mini-tourney.

Arya and Meera had decided that they would do every event other than the jousting. That way, none of them would be hurt all too badly. Neither of them cared all too much about that part, but Sansa insisted and made Bran back her up when she found out.

"Switch your dominant arm. We'll do best of three," Arya challenged after copying Meera's shot.

"Deal." Meera switched the bow itself over to her right hand before sending an arrow flying. This one did not hit the center, but the ring outside of the bullseye. The next one she did manage to find the center, but the last just missed it.

"Alright," Meera said, "you give it a go."

Arya grinned to herself and pulled the arrow back before it sprang forward to hit the center. The same shot followed that, and so did the third. She knew it probably wasn't fair; most people did not train with their nondominant hand. However, one of the things Arya learned from the House of Black and White is that you never know what circumstances may come that would require those skills.

"Damn," Meera muttered. "Congratulations, Arya Stark, you have won the first bit of the tourney!"

Arya smiled at her, placing her hand on her shoulder. "You sure made it difficult on me."

"Well, you rose to the challenge."

Arya let out a small laugh before plopping down next to Sandor and Podrick. "Ugh, now I'm exhausted. Do you think I could skip tea time?"

Sandor shook his head while Podrick nodded.

"Aunt Sansa will kill you," Sandor muttered, picking at the grass.

"I'm not afraid of Aunt Sansa."

"Well, that's just dumb then. Everyone should be slightly afraid of Aunt Sansa."

Arya laughed at that, ruffling his hair. "I really want to skip. Can't you go for me?"

He shook his head. "No, I can't. Ser Brieanne was busy earlier so my lessons had to be delayed."

"Yeah, Arya," Podrick said mockingly.

Arya stuck her tongue out at him before laying down on the ground. "Podrick, you go for me."

"I'm not sure that is how that works."

Arya groaned before prying herself up on her elbows. "Meera, are you going?"

Meera shook her head. "No, the Lady of Highgarden is a pain in the ass, and I'm just not in the mood to handle her."

"See, the future queen isn't going, I don't have to go."

"That's not correct," Sandor said. "That will just make Aunt Sansa more anxious. She hates being anxious."

Arya groaned again and flopped back down on the ground. "I give up."

* * *

The next part of the tourney was held the next day. Although Ser Podrick did well, there was simply no competition when it came to axe-throwing. Lord Baratheon had won by far, concluding the second part of the tourney.

As everyone clapped for him, Sansa suddenly stiffened, her eyes falling on yellow gems that sparkled in the sunlight on the vest of Lord Baratheon. From that distance, no one would be able to see what the pin was, for it was relatively small in size. However, the pins were one of the last things that the Stark girls had received from their mother.

Sansa looked over at her sister who was not clapping with the rest of the crowd, but she wore her signature smirk as if she knew what the results would be.

"Arya, is that the pin?" Sansa asked her quietly. There was already the scandal of nephew and her sister's relationship with Ser Podrick.

Arya bit her lip but pretended not to hear the question which gave Sansa the answer she was looking for.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't be coy."

"I'm not being coy."

Sansa took a deep breath and stood up, nodding to the other ladies around her and her brother before she linked her arm through her sisters. "Sandor, darling, will you go see Ser Podrick for a bit?"

Sandor nodded and walked over to the gate.

"Sansa, this isn't necessary," Arya said lowly.

"I believe it is."

Arya rolled her eyes as her sister lead her behind the platform, Sansa double checking to make sure nobody was around before she let go of her, facing her directly.

"Have you lost your mind?" she hissed.

"I seriously don't know what you're talking about."

"The pin, Arya! You gave Lord Baratheon your direwolf pin as a favor, didn't you?"

Arya looked down at the ground, sheepishly. "Well, kinda."

Sansa rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her. "What were you thinking?"

"It's a pin, calm down."

"It's not just a pin, Arya! Seriously, what were your intentions?"

Arya stood there, her mouth open as if she was trying to find the right words, but nothing came out.

"That's right. You're not even sure of your intentions. Did you do it to spite Robin Arryn?"

"No," Arya huffed. "He's irrelevant."

"Then why? Were you staking your claim on Lord Baratheon?"

"What?"

"Just answer the question."

Arya sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "No. Yes? I don't know. I don't know why I did it."

"Then ask for it back?"

"What?!"

"Ask for it back."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because that's rude."

"As if you care about being rude," Sansa scolded. "Why will you not ask for it back?"

"Because!" she yelled, causing two women walking by to notice them. Arya took a deep breath. "I wanted to show Gendry my support, a way to further the divide between us, alright? Is that a good enough answer for you?" she said quietly.

"And what about everyone else seeing it?"

"When have I ever cared what anyone else thinks? Everyone already knows about us because of mini Gendry."

"And what about Podrick?"

Arya scrunched up her face in confusion. "What about Podrick? What does Podrick have to do with this?"

Sansa groaned, throwing her head back. "Are you seriously that blind?"

"About what?"

"Ser Podrick Payne is in love with you. It is clear to anyone who has ever seen the two of you interact."

Arya stood there for a second before she slowly shook her head. "You know, I think you being out of Winterfell for so long has made you lose your mind."

"I'm serious, Arya."

"Yes, seriously wrong. Yes, Podrick loves me, and I love Podrick. He's a part of my pack. That does not mean that he is in love with me."

"You are so thick! Open your eyes, dear sister. You are living in a delusional bubble right now, only seeing what you want to see."

"Why would that be the case?"

"Because that would make your life so much easier if Podrick wasn't in love with you. If he wasn't, you could follow Lord Baratheon to Storms End and live your life out there, just you, Sandor, Gendry, and Podrick, one big happy family."

"And? What's so wrong with that?"

Sansa pressed her lips together tightly, frustrated that her sister wasn't listening to a word she said. "That will never happen. Podrick is struggling enough with this whole situation. He raised Sandor with you, a stand-in father if you will. Now, Sandor's real father is here, and suddenly he feels as if he is an uncle."

"You're making things up."

"No, I'm not, Arya. Podrick talks to Tyrion, Tyrion talks to me."

Arya bit her lip, shaking her head slightly. "No."

Sansa clasped her hands together before bringing them to her lips. "You need to start thinking through your actions. You hurt a lot of people by going off on your whims."

"What do you mean?"

"Your little trip West of Westeros? Why was that even necessary?"

"Because I needed to escape."

"From what? From your family? From Gendry?"

"You know it's not that simple."

"Isn't it? You could have stayed and helped me rebuild the North. You would have then had Sandor here, let Gendry know, and he would have grown up with a complete family."

"But Gendry wouldn't be in Storm's End then."

"Oh, stop it, Arya," she said, exasperated. "You know Gendry better than anyone. You know he hates being a Lord. He would have given it up for any reason at all." Sansa sighed deeply again, closing her eyes tightly. "What's done is done. The past cannot be changed, but the future can be shaped. All I ask is that you figure out what you want."

Sansa started to walk away before she turned around. "I'm sorry to say this, but I don't believe your relationship with Podrick is platonic. A part of me is convinced that you love him too."

And with that, Sansa walked away to go grab Sandor to get him ready for dinner, leaving Arya standing there with a headache caused by an overload of information.


	17. Chapter 17

Sandor Stark used to have no luck slipping away from events because of who his mother was. Arya Stark seemed to notice everybody's movements at all times, so being her son made it very difficult for him to go anywhere without her knowing.

However, Sandor knew that his mother's mind was someplace else the past couple of days, allowing him to be able to escape quite frequently.

He never went far; he didn't want her to worry. He usually just went to go find Podrick or his father. The former was actually quite hard to find. If he wasn't in the forge, he was off in some random location that Sandor did not expect for him to be in. Today, he found Lord Baratheon at the bakery. He was sitting at one of the tables, eating a scone with a cup of tea.

When Sandor snuck into the chair opposite of him, Gendry didn't seem to be too shocked. Instead, he just crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair. "Does your mother know that you are here?"

Sandor shook his head, a sly little grin on his lips that reminded him of Arya. It was still amazing to Gendry that Sandor had almost all of his features, yet all of his facial expressions seemed to match his mother's.

Gendry grinned and took one last bit of the scone before sliding it over to his son. "Tell me if you like this."

Sandor tore off a piece and plopped it into his mouth, nodding after a couple of seconds. "It's really good."

"Maybe it's just me," Gendry said. "Ten years ago, this scone would have been the best thing I've ever tasted. I guess I've grown picky."

"By being a lord?"

"Meh, kind of. You see, my friend is an artist with food. When he found out that I had become Lord of Storms End, he left the little inn that he was working at and became my personal cook. I give him free room and board, coin every month, and whatever he needs to make whatever he wants. In fact, right before I left-"

The door swung open to reveal a disgruntled Arya Stark. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips curled together tightly, her breathing heavy.

"Seven hells, Sandor, you need to stop running away!" she said, walking over to his chair and kneeling down. "This new pattern has got to stop."

Sandor looked down at the floor but giggled slightly. "Sorry."

"Uh huh, sure you are." She looked over at Gendry and frowned. "You know you could have at least told me you were taking him to the bakery."

Gendry held up his arms in defeat before linking them behind his head, leaning back in his chair. "I did no such thing. I was just here, eating my scone when Sandor came in."

Arya made an indignant sound before turning back to her son. "You have training with Ser Brieanne in twenty minutes."

"But that's twenty minutes away," Sandor whined. "I want to listen to father's stories about his cook."

Arya narrowed her eyebrow at Gendry. "Your cook, m'lord?"

Gendry smirked and pulled another chair from a nearby table, gesturing at it for her to take. "Hot Pie."

Her eyes went wide as she slowly sat down. "Hot Pie, Hot Pie?"

"Yup."

"You know him?" Sandor asked her.

"Yeah, I do," she said. "He was actually with your father and me for quite a bit of time there. I haven't seen him since after I killed-" she stopped herself, two pairs of Baratheon eyes on her. "It was a very long time ago."

"He's in Storm's End now," Gendry told her, his eyes still questioning what she was going to say.

"That's crazy," she said with a smile. "How is he?"

"He's Hot Pie. I was just telling Sandor about how his scones make these look like dirt."

"You have him making scones now?"

Gendry grinned. "That and many other things. There is this stew he makes, I have no idea what is in it, but apparently, he got the recipe from a man in Essos. It's pure perfection."

"I'd love to try it."

"Then come to Storm's End," he said, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I know you have a lot to think on, but come to Storm's End. Don't make a decision before you have even seen the place."

She pursed her lips slightly before looking down at Sandor, his eyes looking back at her wide and pleading. "I suppose that's logical, coming from you."

Gendry rolled his eyes as the corner of his mouth rose. "As you know, m'lady, I'm now a Lord now. I spend copious amounts of my time reading, writing official decrees from time to time, or the occasional letter to other prominent households."

"Do you really?"

"I mean, I have my advisor or sister read over everything I write, but I do enjoy reading." He turned over to his son, smiling at him. "Sandor is probably much better than me."

"That's probably true," Sandor said, stuffing the rest of the scone in his mouth.

The two laughed, and Arya could not help but realize how comfortable the situation was. She stood up from her chair and gently pulled out Sandor's. "Come on, you have training."

"No," Sandor said defiantly, crossing his arms in front of him.

"Sandor, now."

"No."

"I want another scone," he snapped.

Arya rolled her eyes. Her son was usually so well behaved, but he was still a child, and it drove her nuts when he would throw his little temper tantrums.

"Come on, Brieanne is waiting."

"Why don't you just train him?" Gendry asked curiously.

"I want him to train with different styles of fighting," Arya said, nudging her son with her foot. "I fight much differently than Ser Brieanne or Podrick."

Gendry stiffened slightly at the name but didn't let it pass to his face. "Gotcha."

"Sandor Eddard Stark, I swear child, I will drag you out of here."

"No, I don't want to go."

Arya groaned loudly before picking him up, swinging him over her shoulder.

"MOTHER!" he yelled, causing her to roll her eyes.

"You could have done this the easy way, so this is your fault."

Sandor stopped struggling, knowing that his efforts would be useless. "You're mean, and you're dumb."

"Ours is the fury indeed," she grumbled to herself, causing Gendry to smirk. "You think this is funny, you deal with it," she said after noticing his amusement. She pulled the child off of her and handed him to the calmer Baratheon. "Get him to Ser Brieanne, thank you."

"I want another scone," Sandor whined.

Gendry adjusted the child so that he had a better hold. He was heavier than he looked which made Gendry surprised that she could carry him with ease, but then again nothing she did really surprised him anymore.

Arya pinched Sandor's nose. "No more scones. Go train."

"I don't wanna."

"Seven hells, I feel like my mother," she muttered. She nodded slightly to Gendry before turning to walk out of the bakery.

"Wait, where are you going?" Gendry called after her.

"Riding," she said, pulling the door open. "I've been chasing a restless five-year-old around for three days. I need it."

As she left, Gendry stood there in shock, his child on his shoulder. He poked his side, causing Sandor to tilt his head toward him. "If we split another scone, will you go train without hassle?"

Sandor nodded and Gendry put him down. Sandor made his way over to the table and sat down quietly.

Gendry grinned to himself as he went to get another scone. This parenting thing was going to be easy.


	18. Chapter 18

As Arya made her way to the stables, she ran into Podrick. She felt uncomfortable around him now, something that she hated. She blamed her sister one hundred percent. Everything was going perfectly until Sansa decided to open up her mouth. Then again, that was usually the case, she thought.

He smiled down at her, leaning against the post. "Hey, you. What have you been up to?" he asked.

"Dealing with a five-year-old. I'm escaping for a couple of hours. Care to join?"

He narrowed his eyebrows. "Who has Sandor?"

"Gendry."

Podrick made a slight face, unnoticeable to anyone but her. She decided to ignore it, not wanting to think what her sister said was true.

She walked over to one of the horses and pulled the stable door open, smoothing her hand over it's main before hopping up onto it. "Are you coming or not?"

He nodded and hopped up on to his own horse. "Let's go."

* * *

The two found a small river in the woods, sparkling in the remainder of the sunlight. It was calm and peaceful. It reminded Arya of a simpler time when she wasn't being pulled in a million different directions.

She slid off of her horse and walked over to the water, splashing a bit on her face. It was cool and refreshing. She was positive that she would never get used to the heat in King's Landing. Wolves don't belong here, unless that is if you're also the three-eyed-raven she supposed.

Her mind wandered to Jon. She had missed him very greatly, but that was not new to her. Every once in awhile she would recieve a letter from him, but they were brief and fleeting, mentioning ghost or Tormund and asking about Sandor and Podrick.

"What if I just went north of the wall and never came back?" she muttered to herself. "That would be the easiest way."

But she knew that was a lie. She had her son to think of. He was her whole world. She had her time to explore herself, to escape the aftermath of the war. Now it was time for her to do right by Sandor, that bright and cheeky son of hers.

Arya had never wanted children and refused to even entertain that thought in the world she lived in. Now, she couldn't imagine a world without him.

"What are you thinking about?" Podrick asked, sitting beside her.

"Sandor," she stated simply. "I don't know what to do when all of this is said and done. Gendry invited us to Storm's End after the wedding. He wants Sandor and I to check it out before we decide on what we're doing."

"And what about Gendry?"

"What about him?"

"What if you don't go to Storm's End? What if you go back to Winterfell?"

"Then he comes with, I guess," she said with a slight shrug.

"Hm."

She narrowed her eyebrows at him. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Podrick."

"What?"

"You're holding something back. I know your face. Stop making that face if you're going to pretend that you don't want to say something."

Podrick sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair. "Is having Gendry around really what is best?"

"What?"

"I mean, the whole situation is confusing to Sandor."

"Yeah, I get that, but Gendry is his father, and Sandor already adores him. He needs his father in his life."

A few seconds of awkward silence passed before Podrick let out a deep sigh. "I just don't understand."

"Don't understand what?"

"Any of this!" he said exasperated. "You say he needs a father, but he has had me his entire life!"

"Podrick..."

"No, I know it's not the same. I don't have the same mannerisms as Sandor, nor does he look exactly like me. But I was there with you every step of the way while he was growing up. I know every single little thing about him. I know how he takes his tea, the foods he likes and dislikes, the exact time that he needs to be put to bed or he is hell in the morning. I played a large role in raising him, and now that we are back with your first love, where the hell does that put me, Arya?!"

"Nothing's changed," she exclaimed, although she wasn't sure if it was to Podrick or herself. "Sandor just has one more person looking out for him. I don't understand what the big deal is."

Podrick scoffed and scrunched up his face tightly, pressing his lips tightly together, an expression she had only seen a few times in her life. "Everything has changed. Absolutely everything has from where we were just last year. How can you not see that? For being one of the smartest people I know, you sure love to live your life in a bubble."

"I'm not living in a bubble."

"You are, and you know it. If you hear something you don't like, you pretend that is not how it is. You make everything so black and white. It's this or that with you, there is no middle ground!"

"Seven hells, Podrick, you sound like Sansa."

"Well, maybe when two of the people who love you the most say something, you'll realize it for yourself."

Arya stopped at that. Normally, she would not bat an eyelash at that sentence. Before, the two of them had an understanding of the love between them; it was familial, a mutual respect. Now, when everyone was telling her she wasn't seeing things correctly, she couldn't help but consider what Sansa had said.

"Podrick, are you in love with me?"

He looked taken aback by her question. "What?"

"Sansa said that you're in love with me. Is it true?"

Podrick sighed deeply, the mood of the conversation changing dirsatically. "Is that why you've been avoiding me?"

"I haven't been avoiding you."

"You have."

"If I was avoiding you, you wouldn't be here."

Podrick suddenly stood up, turning his back to her and pacing a little bit before whipping around. "Why? Does it matter if I am or not?"

"Of course it matters."

"Why?"

For that, Arya had no answer. She had never been uncomfortable around Podrick, yet this conversation was probably the most uncomfortable of all.

"See, you don't even know," he said with a stressed laugh.

She then stood up, crossing her arms in front of her chest after wiping the dirt on her pants. "When did you start hiding things from me?"

"What?"

"You say things have changed, well that is one thing that has definitely changed. You've said nothing about us being here since we've arrived. You've said nothing about your feelings regarding Gendry, and it has taken you this long to admit that you are angry with me. So don't blame this all on me, you've distanced yourself!"

"Yes, Arya, it's because I don't want to get hurt."

"Hurt by who?"

"By you!" he yelled, pulling a bit at his hair. "Sansa is right. I am in love with you."

A small yet harsh gasp of air passed through Arya's lips.

He let out a small chuckle and looked down at the ground. "It's a miracle you didn't even see that." He then walked closer to her, taking up the little space that was between them. "Look, I don't expect you to return my feelings, but it would be more than appreciated if you did. I can't imagine a life without you, Arya. I love the little family we built for ourselves and our life as well. I know that is all changing, and your world is all changing, but I can't sit idly by anymore. If you choose Gendry, that's fine, but at least it's a choice, and I placed my name in the drawing."

As Arya was trying to find words to say, Podrick placed his hand on her cheek, peering into her eyes before placing the softest of kisses on her lips. It was brief and fleeting, but the warmth lingered on.

"I'm suspecting you need some time alone," he said, removing his hand from her cheek. "I'll see you at dinner, yes?"

She nodded, still not knowing if she could even speak a word of acknowledgment.

As Podrick hopped back on his horse and rode off, Arya walked back over to the river and plopped down next to it, pulling her knees in close to her chest like a child.

"I really hate King's Landing."


	19. Chapter 19

Sansa was becoming worried. Arya had not shown up for dinner, and she had not seen her at all around the castle. Podrick, however, was acting odd. No longer was he joking around with Brieanne at their table. Instead, he sat there quietly with a thoughtful expression on his face.

Sandor had decided to sit with Lord Baratheon that night, running over to his aunt every once in a while, but not often.

Tomorrow was archery competition, so most of the Lords decided to retire to their featherbeds early, the great hall clearing out quickly.

Sansa grabbed Sandor and put him to bed, kissing his forehead before pulling the furs over him. Then, she went to Arya's room, expecting for her to be absent, but shocked to find her sitting on her bed cross-legged. A glass of wine rested in her hand, the decanter half full on the ground below. Her sister's grey eyes stared into the fire, conflict residing in them.

"Arya, are you alright?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

Arya gave the slightest of nods before bringing the cup to her lips.

"I put Sandor to bed."

"Thank you," she said after a few seconds.

Sansa sighed and shut the door gently behind her, walking up to her sister and sitting next to her. Her cheeks were flushed, indicating that she had been drinking for a while.

"Arya, I'm sorry if what I said yesterday came off in a brash manner and-"

Arya held up her hand, stopping Sansa mid-apology. "Don't. You were right, I think." She downed the rest of her wine before pouring herself another cup, setting the decanter back in its original spot as she resumed her same stoney position.

"You think?"

Arya nodded, no emotion crossing her face.

"Arya, talk to me. I don't enjoy seeing you like this."

The smaller Stark sighed and looked over at her sister for the first time. "I don't know what to do," she admitted, her eyes becoming glossy.

"Oh," Sansa let out as Arya suddenly burst into tears. She pulled her sister into a comforting embrace. She had never seen Arya cry before. Even when they were small, Arya never let her guard down around her sister. When she got hurt, she would hold her chin up a little bit taller and get back up. That was just the kind of person that she was. Now, as she held her sister in her arms, she didn't know what to think.

Sansa grabbed the wine glass that was tipping over slightly and put it on the bedside table next to her before returning back to hold her sister. "It will be alright," she said.

Arya shook her head into Sansa's shoulder. "No, no it won't. That's a lie." She peeled herself off and wiped her nose on her sleeve, trying to steady her breathing. "No matter what I do, someone gets hurt."

"That's life," Sansa stated.

"No, we've had enough hurt. We lost so many people and so much of ourselves. This is supposed to not hurt anymore."

Sansa sighed deeply and started to undo her sister's braid, running her fingers through it to get it loose.

"I don't want to hurt Podrick. I can't hurt Gendry again. You didn't see the way he looked at me when we first arrived. We had always been allies, yet he looked at me as though I was the enemy. He hated me."

"He did not hate you."

"He did. You don't know him as well as I do. He hated me. Those blue eyes were lit with hatred and resentment."

Sansa rolled her eyes. She knew Lord Baratheon well enough to know that he had never felt anything other for her sister than love. "That's drunk talk."

"That's truth talk!" Arya exclaimed. "And Podrick...seven hells, Podrick. He's right. I'm incredibly unfair to him. He gave up everything to go on that stupid voyage with me. He was there for me every step of the way, supported and cared for me. He did fill in for being Sandor's father for a while, and now? What am I doing to him now?"

Sansa handed her sister her handkerchief, which Arya loudly blew her nose into.

"I'm hurting him, just like I did Gendry. Will he look at me as though he hates me too?"

Sansa shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair again in a soothing manner. "No, none of them hate you."

"One of them will," she sobbed. "I can't have both of them. I also have to think about what is best for Sandor."

"Sandor will be alright with either. He just wants you happy. You'll figure out the logistics later."

"Maybe, but I don't think so."

Arya leaned over Sansa, reaching for the wine which Sansa stopped her from doing. "Arya..."

"Give me the wine, Sansa."

"No."

"Give it to me."

"No, it's not healthy to drink your problems away," she said, thinking of Tyrion.

Arya made an animalistic sound before launching herself at it, leaving the two sisters to struggle against each other as Sansa tried to push her back. The cup with the wine tipped over and fell on the floor with a loud crash, the wine itself spilling over the wood paneling of the floor.

Like a child, Arya burst back into tears, pushing and hitting Sansa. "You ruin everything!"

Sansa rolled her eyes as she grabbed her sister's wrist. Although Arya was a trained assassin, she seemed to lose all of her training when it came down to lots of wine.

Arya finally stopped struggling and collapsed on the bed. "You are the worst."

Sansa sighed and picked up the goblet, sitting it back up on the table before getting up to grab a towel.

"I miss Jon," Arya admitted.

"Me too," Sansa muttered as she started to clean up her sister's mess. She put the now stained towel next to the goblet and sat on the bed again. "What happened today?"

Arya grumbled and grabbed a pillow, hugging it to her chest. "Podrick told me that he was in love with me."

"Huh."

"Really? All you have to say is 'huh'? I was expecting a big, fat 'I told you so.'".

"Well, you already told me that I was right."

Arya groaned loudly. "I feel guilty, and I don't know why. Do I feel guilty because I did this to him, or because I feel as if I was betraying Gendry."

"Betraying Gendry?"

"Mmhm. That's why I never let myself think about what happened between Podrick and I some of those nights overseas. I felt guilty but not as bad as I do now. Maybe it's because that was just drunk sex and not a sober kiss."

Sansa's eyes went wide. "What? You kissed him?"

"He kissed me."

"And..."

"And what?"

"What did you feel?"

Arya shrugged, clutching the pillow tighter. "I don't know. It was nice, comforting, familiar."

"Do you love him too?"

"I don't know!" she groaned. "I don't know because I can't feel anything other than guilt. Guilt, guilt, guilt."

"That's odd. You usually don't feel any guilt at all. I didn't know that was an emotion that you were capable of having."

Arya launched the pillow, it hitting her sister's face hard, causing the redhead to laugh. "Rude!"

Arya shrugged, a slight smile across her lips. "It is what it is." She sighed and grabbed the pillow back, bringing it up to her head. "Sansa, what do I do?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "You have time, however. You'll know what to do eventually."

"You swear?"

"Yes." She leaned over and pressed a light kiss on her sister's forehead before getting off of the featherbed and walking to the door. "Goodnight."

"Thank you," Arya muttered before her eyelids shut, sleep pulling her in deep.


End file.
